The nights are becoming warmer, and once again I find myself walking around camp at night looking for nocturnal life. The bats are back, flitting around outside the camp office, and the deer are keeping the lawn in check out front. Frogs inconspicuously dot the walkways, and the variety of moths around the lights is once again increasing. I relocated a beautiful Ceonothus Silk Moth from the walkway by the lodge last night, and at around 6:30 AM this morning, a camper brought me another one. He had found it in the bathroom, and even knew enough not to touch (and hence damage) the wings. He had coaxed it onto a paper towel so he could bring it to me, saying that he was afraid some of the other kids might freak out and try to kill it if they discovered it in the bathroom. Sadly, he was probably right about that. Thanking him, I got it to walk off the paper towel onto my finger, and relocated it to a less frequented area.

Currently listening to: Steve Von Till "If I Should Fall To The Field"

Sometimes I feel like I'm writing letters to my future self. I've been looking back through older entries in this blog, and reflecting on how much my life has changed over the last few years. My present self is reading these letters from my past self, and composing new letters for my future self to one day read. I wonder how much things will change over the next few years.

Jeanine and I went for a walk in the hills this morning, exactly six months after our first walk together. Spring is bursting out of the ground and singing in the air. A riot of flowers and butterflies greeted us around nearly every turn in the trail, and birds and bunnies ducked for cover as we passed. We paused at the highest peak in the open space area, and had a little trail lunch. On the way back to the van, a goose hissed at me, perhaps in an attempt to be more memorable than the flowers and butterflies.

Afterward, we went to a local coffee shop where Jeanine got a Chai and I bought a mystery drink which I think contained cinnamon, pepper, and nutmeg. I was quite good. I was happy to notice that the shop's sound system boasted a turntable, and that they were playing actual records. West African music. Very nice.

I'm going to a job fair on Saturday to try and land a teaching job, although I hear that districts are currently letting teachers go. We're also plugging away at the mountain of work to be done at my mom's house. More books have been boxed up, and more rooms have been at least partially cleared. There was one strange incident that happened while Jeanine and I were working in the family room. A crystal glass jumped off the top of a shelf and into a nearby chair. Neither of us were anywhere near it at the time, and when we looked at where it stood, we noticed that the base had cracked, leaving a crescent of crystal behind. Oddly though, the part of base that stayed on the shelf was the part nearest to the edge the rest of the glass had fallen off of. I can't remember if it had been cracked beforehand. We both investigated the remaining piece to see if it was somehow stuck to the shelf, but it wasn't. I joked that it was the work of a poltergeist, but then stopped and wondered... The glass was, after all, resting about ten feet from where my mother died.

It has been slightly over a month now since my mom died, and life goes on for the rest of us. Willow is now 7, her birthday being celebrated on different days at her house and mine, not to mention a party the weekend before. My dad came down this Saturday, and we spent time together in the house that neither of us have lived in for years, he going through old files, and me recycling and cleaning, and we had a nice time together, despite the circumstances. Greg came down the next day, and we loaded up my van with more than a thousand books, delivering them to the Cupertino library where my mom volunteered for a good percentage of her life. After dropping Greg off at the BART station in the afternoon, I returned to the house and was met there slightly later by Jeanine. We did some more sorting and cleaning together, and it's finally starting to look like work has been done. It's an overwhelming process, dealing with all of the things my mom accumulated after living in the same house for four decades, especially when one considers how many of the things have memories attached to them, and how many interesting books my mom had. One of the neighbors has been putting out the recycling and garbage bins every week, saving me from having to make extra trips. I'm grateful for that. For the past month, the recycling bin has been filled and refilled with magazines, mostly copies of New Yorker. I'm keeping the National Geographics.

At the moment, I'm at work. The kids are in bed, and the wind gives the occasional desultory gust. More clouds are moving in, and rain is expected to moisten this corner of the world sometime before dawn. Every other day feels like Spring, but Winter isn't done with us yet. I feel like I'm getting the best of both worlds.

A startled doe leaping toward me over a low fence, side-lit by camp lights. Hooves clopping down on pebbled cement in a brief flash of sparks. The staccato sound of its passage. Disappearing into darkness.

The darkness is already filled with Spring. The frogs know it. The air smells of it. I can feel it on my skin. Despite this, it is still cold at night. The wind still howls. At times, the rain pelts down. The moon blinks on and off behind the clouds. The world heals in green. The green heals the rest of us.

It is time, as always, to think of cycles. Of endings. Of beginnings.

Occasionally I'll spend time looking through my old blog posts. It can be fun to revisit what was going through my head on the same day during previous years. Recently, I rediscovered a blow-by-blow account of a day three years ago. The day was posted on February 22nd (although it was actually the 21st that I wrote about, so I've just realized I'm one day off. Oh well), so yesterday I spent the whole day paying attention to the details of my day, writing little notes down throughout. A lot has changed in the last three years, and it is interesting (for me, at least) to compare the days. So, without further ado, here is yesterday:

6:55- I wake up and realize it's not even 7 yet, and promptly go back to sleep.

8:45- That's more like it. I wake up again, and microwave some veggie bacon and make cinnamon toast. I pour out the coffee that has been sitting in the pot since before I went to Chicago. Make new coffee. I check e-mail while having breakfast, sending e-mails to Jen (letting her know I'll pick Willow up from softball practice) and Jeanine. I also read an update from David Tibet about the upcoming Current 93 shows in London, and decide I want to go. I follow a link to the Myspace page for Lili Refrain, and decide I want to get her cd. I pause to reflect on the hidden costs of the internet.

9:30- Gather materials to pack and mail the Anathema "We Are The Bible" 7" to a guy named Ross in Australia. This will probably be the last Ebay item I sell in awhile. I think I've made over $600.00 on Ebay over the last couple of months.

9:44- Unpack, looking for receipts from the trip so I can balance my checkbook.

10:00- Sitting in front of a pile of receipts, preparing to tally them.

10:16- Checkbook balanced. $165.00 left for the month. Time for a shower.

10:41- Getting dressed.

10:50- Stopped in the middle of getting dressed to crop photos and upload them to Flickr.

10:55- Decide to just crop and choose photos now, and upload later. Back to getting dressed.

11:00- Putting away clean dishes.

11:05- I return a call to Gabriel, who is the father of one of Willow's friends from preschool. We discuss potential playdate dates for the girls. I mention elephant seals, and Gabriel relates a story about how he went to see them but was turned back by some mysterious, awful stench - he describes it as potentially lethal.

11:20- Finish getting dressed.

11:30- Leave to walk to the library, Post Office, and grocery store.

11:40- Standing in front of the library, I discover that it opens at 2:00 PM on Mondays. Walk to the post office across the street.

11:45- At the post office, discover that there are no flat rate envelopes in the usual place, and wait in line with my unpackaged record to get an envelope from an employee.

11:55- I get an envelope, stuff the record inside, hurriedly address it, and mail it. On the way out, I drop a check for my car insurance in the proper slot.

12:00- Walk across parking lot to grocery store. Buy $40 worth of groceries, including bread, burrito supplies, hummus ingredients, and ice cream for Willow's birthday.

12:12- Walk home.

12:22- Put groceries away.

12:25- Make hummus and listen to the news on my radio/I-pod dock.

12:39- Eat hummus with bread, reflecting as I do that perhaps I put in too much yogurt or not enough garbanzo beans. It's too runny to make a sandwich out of, so I simply dip the bread into it. While dipping, I check e-mail.

1:00- Digest. Do dishes.

1:11- Start uploading photos to Flickr and editing remaining photos from trip.

2:26- Decide to stop editing/uploading photos, and walk to library to straighten out current difficulties (historical note: around a month ago, 9 items that I didn't check out appeared on my account, and the library wants to charge me late fees and replacement costs) and then on to nearby store to buy Willow some birthday presents.

2:35- Talk to librarian.

2:37- Talk to librarian's supervisor. She hems and haws for a bit, first trying to give me the number of somebody at the main branch in downtown San Jose, but finally relenting and waiving the fees (due, in part, to the fact that the missing items, being in Spanish, are very dissimilar to what I usually check out). I feel a weight lifted off of me, and depart with a spring in my step to round up some birthday loot for Willow.

2:40- Walk to nearby store.

3:04 - $40 later, emerge from store with doll clothes for Willow, and a new razor for me. Walk home.

3:11- Check mail. Nothing.

3:12- Hide presents on top of closet. Sit down and contemplate having a cup of coffee. Wait for photos to finish uploading (52% complete).

3:33- Finish choosing which photos to upload next.

4:01- Still uploading and naming photos. Perhaps now I will have some coffee.

4:03- Coffee from this morning is still warm enough to drink without microwaving. Yay! I drink it black to help preserve remaining warmth.

4:20- Tallying up how much I spent today. Sadly balancing checkbook.

4:30- $93.81

4:36- Drinking water and eating dried fruit mix. Blogging (transferring travel journal to blog).

5:00- Save blog without publishing, and name some more uploaded photos.

5:10- E-mail Jeanine.

5:20- More journal transferring.

5:30- More photo uploading.

5:48- Leave to get Willow from softball practice. Listening to Sheila Chandra "Abonecronedrone" as I drive. It is a promo cassette that I've had for nearly two decades, I think. My converter that allows me to listen to my I-pod and/or cd player in the van no longer works, but I'm enjoying listening to old cassettes for the time being.

6:00- I arrive at the softball field (at Willow's school) in time for the after-practice parent meeting. Jen is there, as is Nathan. Willow has a new haircut, and it looks very cute. She can hardly contain her energy as she listens to the coach talk to the parents. Nathan comes over to me and tells me what a good job Willow did during practice.

6:15- Jen hadn't realized that I was taking Willow for dinner (in part, due to the fact that me being gone threw off our schedule a bit, and in part due to the fact that she evidently didn't read the e-mail I sent earlier) but it's fine with her. Initially, Willow wants to go home with her mom because that's where all of her new birthday presents are (her birthday isn't until Thursday, but she had a party this weekend). I tell her I brought her things from Chicago, and that more or less changes her mind. Going to Jen's van to get Willow's street shoes, we run into Sophie. Sophie wants to come to my place too, so I leave with both girls in tow. Willow tells me about her birthday party as we drive.

6:33- Arrive home.

6:40- Make quesadillas for girls and show them some pictures from my trip. Break the news that it's no TV week, and that this includes DVDs. Make quesadilla for myself, with added hot sauce.

6:45- Eat, and get frozen peas out for the girls.

6:55- Attempt to prevent Sophie from smashing frozen peas into the linoleum.

7:10- Figure out how to pull a long stream of colored paper, magician style, out of my mouth (a giveaway from the convention). Watch girls play with the paper and try to stuff it into their mouths to emulate me. I inform them it is a one-use product.

7:15- Prevent girls from watching a DVD. Listen to Sophie make up funny insults. Girls' talk degenerates into discussions and demonstrations of farting.

7:20- We put Willow's blooming rock (a rock that grows crystals when submerged in vinegar) into a bowl full of white vinegar. I explain to the girls that it doesn't bloom immediately. Sophie asks if she can drink the vinegar. I let the girls smell it. They make disgusted faces.

7:22- I give Sophie the 5 olives she asks for.

7:30- Tickle fight!

7:35- Turn off laptop.

7:38- Sweep frozen peas off floor. Notice that there are still 4 olives in Sophie's bowl. I tell her to eat them. She ignores me.

7:40- Drink a half cup of coffee.

7:46- Finish coffee. Leave to drop of girls at their mom's house.

8:00- Drop off girls. Admire picture that Sophie painted for Willow. Head for work, still listening to Abonecronedrone.

8:20- Arrive at work.

8:25 Turn on heater to boys' cabins, and grab Night Talk board (a large foam board with explicit instructions for getting ready for bed - a visual aid for the students)to bring down to the amphitheater where the students are loudly enjoying the campfire program.

8:30- Play tarka and sing "Bats Eat Bugs" with Jellyfish, Bunny, and Falcon, then lead the cabin leaders away to have a quick meeting with them. I introduce myself and give them general advice about the nighttime routine, and give them a step by step description of what happens after the campfire programs ends. I answer some questions as well, and then we all return to the campfire.

8:50- Sing "Humble", the mellow closing song, with my aforementioned coworkers, then start the night talk. I give instructions for getting ready for bed, general advice, and answer questions. One student wants to know what would happen if an escaped robber appeares on the premises in the middle of the night. I move on from that one quickly, so other students don't start worrying about robbers too.

9:15- I dismiss students by cabin group and douse campfire with nearby hose. I arrive back at The Hub (camp office) and use the mic to remind students to walk. I realize I forgot to tell anybody about the second set of bathrooms. I use the mic to remedy this. Then, I walk around playing the tarka, using the mic tucked under my arm to amplify it.

9:25- I talk with 3 girls who got in trouble for "looking in windows", and then with a little homesick girl. After awhile, she seems to feel better, so I tell her to go get ready for bed.

9:50- I ring the 5-minute warning bell, and talk with the teachers who are signed up to do night patrol (walking around to make sure cabin lights are off and students are quiet). The homesick girl reappears and wants to talk with her teacher. They go off to talk somewhere.

9:55- I ring the final bell and wish the camp goodnight over the mic. I turn off the mic, and the teachers start the night patrol.

10:00- I plug in my alarm clock and my laptop, then meet with the teachers, introducing myself to the new ones. I recognize about half of them from last year. I then post the hopper (meal server) schedule for tomorrow's breakfast and lunch. Then, I show the teachers where the switch for the heater is located, and wish them goodnight.

10:05- Pour a steaming cup of herbal tea and check e-mail.

10:17- Upload more photos.

10:29- Two girls peek their heads in the door to ask if they can go to the bathroom. I tell them they can.

10:30- Finish uploading for now (80 more photos) and prepare to go check Riker cotton (cotton squares used for a leaf-mounting activity done later in the week) levels.

10:31- As I'm about to walk out the door, a cabin leader brings over a weeping, homesick boy. I give the boy a quick pep talk and send him back to bed.

10:38- Somebody has left the door to the old dining hall open. I go in, pick up the trash can that Raccoons have dumped, and check Riker cotton. There is enough so that I don't have to cut new squares tonight.

10:42- E-mail Jeanine.

11:13- Just spent a half hour monkeying around on the internet. I'll now go dig out my sleeping bag and prepare my place (dubbed "Crow's Nest") on the top bunk in the Hub.

11:28- Sleeping bag, pillow and blankets in place, I go out to walk around camp. I hear Raccoon noises.

11:33- Back in. There are a few frogs singing out in the darkness, and a half moon playing behind a thin layer of clouds. It is cold, although nowhere near as cold as the -51 degrees Fahrenheit reported by the broken weather gauge outside. Almost done uploading photos. Next, I'll name them.

11:37- Check online weather forecast. Rain over the next two days! Yes!

11:38- Start naming photos.

11:56- Done naming photos. Start uploading last batch.

11:58- Another walk outside while photos are uploading.

12:00- Turn off heaters to cabins (to be turned on again at 6:00 AM).

12:12- Naming photos as they upload.

12:18- Creating Twist & Shout photo set.

12:28- Done creating set. A male Great Horned Owl is hooting outside. I'm going to go out and listen to him. It's very cold outside.

12:35- I surprised a Raccoon in the process of sneaking toward the trash. He ran off. The owl is still hooting.

12:36- Turn off computer and go to bed. The heater in the Hub isn't working, so I keep my sweat jacket on. I'm still cold, but quickly warm up once under the blankets.

For the last fifteen years, nearly every time I've traveled, I've brought along a travel journal and written in it. I've just gotten back from spending the better part of a week in Chicago with Jeanine, and despite the fact that it would have been easier to bring along my laptop and just blog as I went, I stuck with tradition and brought along a travel journal instead, taking advantage of the occasional downtime to record my thoughts and impressions. Now, in the interest of making more work for myself, I'm transferring it to my blog:

2/15/10
This is the first time in roughly four and a half years that I've written in a travel journal, the last time being on the occasion of the irr.app.(ext.) shows in Seattle and Portland in September, 2005.

I'm not currently traveling, but rather sitting in my chair at home, listening to Flanders & Swann while attempting, for the umpteenth time, to download some old releases by The Stalin.

Tomorrow I'll be traveling. Jeanine and I, on separate flights (thanks to me booking my flight months after she booked hers), are both heading for the Twist & Shout balloon convention in Chicago. I'm getting up at 4am for a flight that leaves at 6:30. Jeanine's flight leaves at 6.

2/16/10 5:40am
The San Jose airport seems to be in a constant state of flux. Every time I find myself there, it is as if I'm visiting it for the first time. New fees are constantly being added as well. Passengers are now charged $20 to check bags. I tried to change flights so Jeanine and I could travel together, but was told it would be an extra $50 to do so. So much for customer service.

Now, there seems to be some confusion about the gate number, so I'm moving. So far, I've heard exit alarms go off on at least 3 occasions, and been given the wrong gate number once. I am filled with confidence.

I got up a little before 4 this morning, and Jeanine arrived to get me at 4:15. It was gloriously foggy on the drive to the airport. Now, it's getting close to 6. Jeanine has already boarded and I'm waiting for my own flight.

Some time later...

We walked across the tarmac, old school style, to board the plane. It was foggy and dark, with haloed points of light glittering around us.

On the plane, I discovered that my row was the only one with empty seats. Two of them! I quickly moved from my assigned seat to the window seat, and somebody else just as quickly moved from a nearby middle seat to the now vacant aisle seat. Nature abhores a vacuum, and passengers abhore being stuck between other passengers.

There is some sort of sports team aboard, or perhaps teen fashion has narrowed in scope to the point where they all dress exactly alike. Or maybe the pod people are starting to take over and are still figuring out how to effectively assimilate.

The orange splash of sunlight was beautiful, and I loved watching the light and fog interact as the plane started to swing to the northeast.

1pm Minneapolis

The pedestrian walkway, like a huge, angular caterpillar, has rolled forward, attached its artificial lips to the doorway of the plane, and firmly sucked out all of the passengers, pooping us out into the terminal.

I'm waiting for my connecting flight to Chicago. The ground here is sleeping under a dirty white blanket. I can feel the outside chill from my seat in the waiting area.

2/19/10

There was plenty of time to write on the plane, but this is the first time I've had the time and energy to write since arriving in Chicago

Actually, we're in Oak Brook, a suburb of Chicago, at the Marriott Hotel, where the 2010 Twist & Shout convention is being held. Our room is on the fifth floor, and there is a nice view the snow-covered golf course adjacent to the hotel, and also a nice view of the sunset. I watched the orange disc of the sun wink out beyond the horizon last night, painting the sky above as it vanished. It's strange to not be surrounded by hills, like we are at home. Today, I spent a little time walking around on the golf course while Jeanine was in a class, and discovered that the majority of what we thought were human footprints in the snow are actually goose footprints. Off in the distance, the silhouettes of geese could be seen, and the incongruous sound of their doleful honking filled the chilly air. I guess I'd be doleful too if I was standing barefooted in the snow. I tried to get closer, but my presence inspired a mass goose exodus to the other side of the course.


Inside, Jeanine has introduced me to more people than I can remember. Everybody is really friendly, and most of the attendees are very creative, funny, and/or bizarre in some way. There are balloon sculptures everywhere, including an old-fashioned car being driven by gangsters through the lobby, and a 46 foot Spinosaurus in one of the conference rooms. We've been spending most of our time in the so-called Jam Room, where boxes and boxes of balloons have been set out by the balloon manufacturers sponsoring the event. Jeanine knows just about everybody, and is a bit of a celebrity in this world. I, being a rank amateur, have been fiddling around, picking up techniques, and making giant, sloppy balloon invertebrates. I've made a few other things as well, drawing faces on creations abandoned by others.

Other highlights of the week so far include finding a pizza place where the pizza rivals Zachary's Pizza in Berkeley (my absolute favorite pizza place) and our train trip to downtown Chicago to visit the Art Institute.

To get to the train station, we got a ride in the hotel shuttle. Round trip train tickets were $8.00, and the temperature hovered around freezing. The train ride took about 50 minutes, and we passed through quiet, snow covered communities. I'm fascinated by the snow, and the subtle architectural differences between Chicago and the Bay Area. The most obvious difference is the wanton use of bricks. That would never fly in earthquake-ridden California.

The walk from the train station to the Art Institute was probably about a mile, and took us past the Sears Tower, plus countless "watch for falling ice" signs. Dirty piles of snow covered patches of cement around poles and against buildings, looking like giant, ghostly heaps of dung.

Upon arriving at the Art Institute, we discovered that admission is free in February, which saved us $18.00 each. We happily entered, and the first painting we found ourselves in front of was White Shell With Red, painted by Georgia O'keeffe during the year my mom was born. Staring at the hypnotizing spiral of the shell, I reflected that the most recent art print I can recall my mom acquiring was of an O'keeffe painting. Strange coincidence. Slightly later, Jeanine got a call from a woman named Durga, right before we passed an ancient statue of her namesake. Ha.

The Institute contains an overwhelming amount of artwork, including a great number of world famous paintings - such as the Monet haystacks, American Gothic, works by Van Gogh (the self-portrait is beautiful - prints don't do it justice), Renoir, Matisse, Magritte, etc. If I had to pick favorites, I'd have to say Georgia O'keeffe, Goya's etchings, Joan Miro, Dali, Francis Bacon, and other individual pieces painted by artists previously unknown to me (paintings by George Grosz and Margherita Manzelli spring to mind). Also on display is the Song Of The Lark (1884) by Jules-Adolphe Breton, a print of which graced a wall at home when I was young.

On the way back, we stopped to get some sandwiches and sculpt a strange little animal out of toothpicks, apple core, onion, and a pepper. Afterward, it was back on the train. Just as the train was leaving the station, it dawned on me that we'd gotten on an express train, which would bypass our stop. We got off at the next opportunity, and waited for the right train.

Once we got to our stop, we decided to walk the 3 or so miles back to the hotel. It was nice, and there were some impressive icicles outside the library. Near the hotel though, the unshoveled sidewalk made walking more difficult. No harm done though.

Now, it's Friday afternoon and sunny. I'm in the hotel room while Jeanine is in a class. I didn't bring my laptop along, but have been keeping up with e-mail through Jeanine's computer. This is out of step with my usual habit of being incommunicado while on vacation. In some ways, I like being cut off from the internet better, but it's nice to be able to e-mail Willow.

I think I'll wander back down to the Jam Room now.

2/20, 2:25pm

I'm definitely getting spoiled this week, getting to spend all of this time with Jeanine, not to mention sleeping on an actual bed. My bed at home is a futon, and the bed at work is a bunk bed with institution-grade mattresses.

This morning we saw a Coyote (or perhaps a mangy, emaciated dog - it was hard to tell at a distance) wandering across the snow covered golf course, perhaps looking for geese. I took some pictures from our fifth floor window.

Last night, we were treated to some balloon-related skits and magic acts. Some of them were really impressive, especially the balloon dance piece put together by a guy named Jack. He had created four life-sized balloon people, and tied them to a series of plastic poles, which ran horizontal to the stage so that the balloon people were standing upright in a line, connected at strategic points to the poles. Jack was strapped to the center position, and as he danced to music, the balloon people danced with him. It was very effective, despite the fact that the two balloon people stage left literally lost their heads. The balloon magic of Willie Monroe was another standout.

After the stage show, everybody wandered over to view the contest entries. There were three categories, small, medium, and large, the largest of which was the aforementioned Spinosaurus. In amongst the inflated entries were a number of uninflated balloon art pieces, some of which appeared to have been lacquered. The most impressive of these was the balloon pointilism copy of a Seurat painting. The pointilism effect was achieved using thousands of rolled balloons.

I've made a few more inconsequential things in the Jam Room too, including a large lobster hat. Still making large, ungainly invertebrates.

Now, I'm taking a quick break while Jeanine is taking a class.

2/21, at 2:21pm

I'm sitting at O'hare, covered in garlic powder from the pretzel I just ate, and no doubt reeking of garlic. I can see luggage carts crossing the tarmac outside, looking like lines of ants in the distance. Beyond the runways, the world becomes an indistinct, gray haze. Snow is in the forecast, but not until after my 4:10pm flight is scheduled to leave.

Jeanine left a half hour ago, but she has to change planes in Atlanta, so she'll actually arrive in San Jose a half hour later than me.

Last night was the gala banquet, which included announcements of contest winners, balloon clothing, and balloons flying everywhere. The vegetarian option was some sort of lasagna-quiche hybrid, wrapped in spinach pasta. It was very good. Bob Rumba got up and did some ventriloquism, using members of the audience as ventriloquist dummies as he told the story of Goldilocks. Very clever. He also did a hilarious bit with a small pink rabbit puppet (named "Pinky", if I remember right).

Afterward, we went back to the Jam Room (where else?) and played until around 3am. I've mastered the flat weave now, and used this new skill to create some sort of Precambrian invertebrate, which I later left on a decorative table near the elevators on the fifth floor.

We didn't get to sleep until well after 4am, and I'm now feeling like I could nap.

This morning, drawn to the window by distant honking, I watched a pair of geese slowly cross the snowy golf course. They stopped dejectedly next to an iced-over pond, as if confused by the solid water. When I looked again a few minutes later, they had vanished, perhaps to fly south like proper birds.

After saying our goodbyes, we shuttled to the airport around noon. Apparently, Illinois shuttle drivers prefer to lurk anonymously in their unmarked vehicles rather than announce that they are there to pick you up. Due to this mystifying behavior, we all waited in front of the hotel for an extra 20 minutes. We still managed to get to the airport with time to spare though, despite the lengthy security line.

I went and picked up my mom's ashes today, hugging to my chest the velvet bag holding the container as I walked back to my van. I even seat belted it in place as I drove home. Intellectually, I know that the ashes are just that. Ashes. This is the way I forced myself to view her body as well. This is not the woman who raised and loved me. This is not the mother I loved. This is just what she left behind, like a husk left as a reminder of a sudden, lonely metamorphosis.

What else can you do, how else can you think and feel, when you see your mom lying dead on the floor? And how else can you view a neatly packaged container of ashes?

Still, it was a strangely profound moment for me, hugging those ashes. After the maudlin confines of the waiting room at the Neptune Society, walking with her remains back to the van felt like taking her home one last time. Or not quite a last time, because eventually her ashes will be scattered out to sea, where she will intermingle with countless others, including my friend Sea Turtle, who died in 2008, and Dr. Seuss, who died in 1991. Also, since all oceans are connected, she'll be out there with Gandhi, and countless others. Sure, they're just ashes, but I'm comforted by the fact that all of those ashes are returning to the womb of the world and mixing together. Who knows where they will end up?

On the other side of me, generationally speaking, is Willow. I'm proud of her for the way she handled the news. Sure, she quietly cried for a time, but then she asked to go to the park. At the park, she walked right past the playground and made a beeline for a grove of trees she refers to as "the rain forest". Once there, she requested to be put up in one of the trees, and after I obliged, she talked with my brother and I about life and death, even going to far as to note that being at the park was helping her. I'm especially happy that she so obviously takes comfort in trees.

What would we do without trees?

Currently listening to: Philip Glass "Orion", which made its way here from my mom's collection. Let the music be heard and the books be read!

Judith Elaine Arnold Scharpen
Born 9/27/38, died 1/26/10
Rest In Peace

A week ago, almost to the minute, I got a phone call informing me that my mother had died. She died suddenly at home, surrounded by walls of books. Books have been a passion of hers for as far back as I can remember, and my brother, dad, and I have decided that a fitting tribute to her would be to donate the majority of her bookstore-sized collection back to the Cupertino Library, where she spent years working as a volunteer.

I'm still processing the fact that she is gone, and no doubt will be continuing to do so for quite some time.

I owe her my very existence, of course, and a lot of who I am today can also be credited to her. I will write more over the coming weeks, as things sink in and the process of wrestling with this new void in our lives unfolds. This is a time of sadness, but also of love and reflection.

I love you, mom. The world is not the same without you.

Working as a night host at a science camp is sort of like working as a security guard. Most of the time, it's a pretty uneventful job. I sometimes joke about feeling guilty for getting paid, because I have hours and hours to do pretty much what I want to do - read, write, stargaze, look for frogs, and generally just relax. Every once in awhile a kid will come into the camp office at night, usually brought there either by homesickness or actual sickness. Sometimes, though, I'll get a visitor who doesn't fit into either of these categories.

Take, for instance, the boy who came in last week. He pointed down at his socks, and asked, "What is this?". I looked down at his strangely patterned socks and replied, "uh, it's a sock." He kept pointing and asking the question, so I turned on a brighter light. What I had taken for a pattern was diarrhea, and it soon became obvious that his whole lower body was also covered in it. I reevaluated my earlier supposition, and told him, "it's poo." To this, he responded, "am I taking a shower now?". The answer, of course, was, "yes!".

I found two frogs while leading him over to the shower room. Nature works in mysterious ways.

Last night, a boy visited me a little before 2am. He looked sad and cold, so I asked him what was wrong. He replied in a shaky little voice, "I lost my sleeping bag". Long story short, it had fallen off his bunk and he couldn't find it in the dark. I think this is the first time a kid has actually lost a sleeping bag while supposedly sleeping in it. It does indeed boggle the mind. He was very grateful when I found it for him though.

Another job well done. Ha.

This has been a week of very satisfying thunderstorms, and similarly satisfying snuggling inside while listening to the rain on the roof and watching old Hitchcock films (or film, I should say, because we only watched Sabotage). Today, the rain has relented for the time being, and right now it is gray and chilly outside.

Earlier, a bit of wind caused the neighbor's wind chimes to sing and I found myself thinking, I should get some wind chimes like that. Then it occurred to me how stupid the thought was. The neighbor's wind chimes are a mere 6 or 7 feet away from my patio, and sound travels. I can listen to her wind chimes for free.

Consumer culture is insidious. It is important to maintain constant vigilance against senseless purchasing of unneeded items.

Currently listening to: Black Tape For A Blue Girl "As One Aflame Laid Bare By Desire"

Happy Martin Luther King Day! I'm sure that because of this holiday, at least a few lives will be saved by the mere fact that a lot of people don't have to drive to work. I base this on the fact that it has been raining all morning, and knowledge of how to safely drive in the rain is an elusive thing. The radio is already full of reports of collisions and other rain-related incidents. If it were a bucket, the traffic reports would be spilling over onto the floor and entangling my feet as I walk across the kitchen.

As I hovered on the border between sleep and wakefulness this morning, I judged by the light coming through the window that it must be around 7am. When I fully opened my eyes, the glowing red numbers on the clock told me that it was well after 10. The rain sounds like pebbles bouncing off the roof, and the radio is spitting public advisories about intense thunderstorms. I think it's the first time I've heard the Emergency Broadcast System in something other than test mode. In fact, it fooled the radio announcer too, who said it was a test, and then hurriedly backtracked after it was over. Ha! It's supposed to rain all week too, which makes me happy. Beyond the fact that rain is needed, I love this kind of weather. I love watching the trees dance and the sky boil over with black and grey. I love how the wind paper-maches the ground with a colorful hodgepodge of leaves and branches, and how the rain softens the edges of the world.

I just wish that people would slow down a bit. No need to hurry.

Under cloudy skies, Jeanine and I walked for over nine miles yesterday (she estimates 9.3 miles) along the San Tomas Aquino Creek, through a couple of suburban parks, and down neighborhood streets. The squirrels and crows were out in force, often seen dining on acorns together. At one house we passed, there was a cookie sheet full of bird seed (or something similar) set out for the local wildlife. At the end of the walk, which included picking up Jeanine's daughter at school, my feet hurt. I think I need some new shoes. A warm bath took all of the soreness away though.

This got me to thinking about the concept of a walkshed again - mapping out walking-distance destinations in the neighborhood. I'm in easy walking reach of just about everything I need in my neighborhood - park, library, post office, grocery store, convenience stores, restaurants, etc. On the other end of the spectrum are people who get in their giant SUVs to drive half a block. Why?

I'm looking forward to the rain that is supposed to start later today. The forecast calls for it to last for most of the week. Yes! Our watershed needs it.

Currently listening to: Kirile Loo "Lullabies For Husbands"

Last night was ushered in by howling wind and a spattering of rain. I had planned to spend the night at home reading, but a phone call from a coworker sent me out into the night. It seems that, for the first time ever, one of our four-day camp programs started on a Monday instead of a Tuesday. That means I get Thursday night off work this week, not Monday. It sure would have been nice to know that in advance. That's what I get for never going to the meetings. Lest I sound like a slacker, I'm not required to go to the meetings - it's just that I often find myself out of the loop because of this.

I got to work and settled in for the night. I read. I listened to the wind blow things across camp. Not much different from being home, really.

Speaking of work, I threw my hat into the substitute teacher ring today. I'm not sure how often I can expect to be called, but my name is on the list, for one district at least. We'll see how it goes. I'm continuing to trim the fat from my morbidly obese music collection as well, selling a few items on ebay. I'm occasionally shocked at what people are willing to pay for certain items. I'm still trying to recover financially from the holiday season though, so I'm glad some people can't see the bottoms of their wallets.

Spendthrift playtime is over for the time being. Time to be thrifty and watch what I spend.

It seems like I looked behind me while I was walking through the week, and before I could face forward again, I tripped over Friday and fell into the weekend. The week was that fast. It might have had something to do with the fact that I didn't really start my work week until Tuesday night. Only working three night shifts (during which I sleep about half the time) tends to make the week disappear in a blink.

The week was interesting because I worked at our other site, nestled in the hills above Cupertino. The job is the same, but a lot of the little details aren't, so I actually had to think about what I was doing a few times. Ha. The only real difference though, was the fact that I slept on a floor mat in the dining hall instead of a bunk in the camp office, and I had to go around and knock on cabin doors to wake kids up rather than using my I-tunes and large speakers to get the job done.

Like I said though, it seemed to be over before it started. The next two weeks are the same, with no camp on Monday. They're at our main site though, so it's back to the familiar routine.

The new year is a few days old now. So far, I like it. I meet this year happy yet impoverished. I'm down to counting pennies already this month, but I've got a few more cds up on Ebay, and plan to get on some substitute lists in some of the local school districts so I can start doing a little daytime work. Of course, due to the night job, I won't be able to work before around 9am, so that limits me somewhat. No matter, I've had a number of teachers already tell me they like taking afternoons off sometimes. Ha ha.

The last couple of days, I've spent some quality time with Jeanine. We've been on a couple of walks, stumbled across yet another dvd rental place going out of business ($3 dvds!), ambled through a bookstore, and generally had a nice time together. Today, I'm home listening to music and doing little tasks around the apartment. I don't go back to work until Tuesday night, and it's at our second site, where I've never worked the night shift. As a matter of fact, I don't think I've been there since Alex was at camp in the fifth grade. He's in the seventh grade now. The way I look at it though, it's good to start the new year with a change in routine. Keeps me on my toes.

Currently listening to: Arvo Part/Philip Glass/Vladimir Martynov "Silencio"

I think I am now sufficiently recharged enough to resume forward motion. Sometimes when I have time off, I really take time off from everything. This leaves me with a vague feeling of guilt which eventually sets in motion a time of somewhat frenzied activity during which I get a lot accomplished. It is strange though, that the desire to hurriedly get lots of things done usually hits late in the evening when I can't immediately get started on anything. Sometimes by morning the desire has once again vanished. Right now, I'm using this little burst of energy to blog. Who knows what I'll feel like in the morning. I did just make a list of things I need to do though, and the list will be waiting for me at breakfast time. Lists are good insurance against backsliding. Ha.

Part of what has me energized is anticipating working another party with Jeanine tomorrow. I'll help with some of the more simple balloon creations, and with anything else that within my skill level that needs doing. It makes me want to further research getting some sort of insurance in place so I can officially do reptile parties. Sure, I've done them in the past, but it has always been rather informal and word of mouth. Stepping up the number of parties I do would definitely help out with finances around here.

Speaking of money, I've also recently sold my first item on Ebay. I got $122 for a cd, which is nice, especially considering it was something I had two copies of. I've got another pile of cds I'm going to list soon. I'm not sure if I have too many more that will fetch quite as much (at least not anything that I'm currently willing to part with) but I should be able to pull in some decent money.

Willow is asleep in the bed next to me at the moment. I've been letting her stay up late recently, but then again she's still on vacation for a few more days, so why not? I've been staying up late too, but I have a number of books that need reading, and for some reason I never seem to really settle down to read until well after dark.

Looking at the clock, I notice that the eve of the new year is upon us. Stay safe out there tonight.

Currently listening to: Popol Vuh "Tantric Songs"

It is cloudy outside, with a promise of rain. Willow and I are inside, and it looks like a toy store exploded in here right now. I find myself looking forward to the time when she wants presents that aren't big and plastic, and more importantly, don't utter inane catchphrases at the press of a button. Sure, I could just not buy her this type of thing, but right now these presents make her happy, which in turn makes me happy.

This was a good holiday season. For various reasons, everybody is (or seems) happier this year. I know I am. I hope you are too.

This year also marks the first Christmas morning in around a decade that didn't involve me getting up at the proverbial crack of dawn to watch the annual wrapping paper tornado sweep through the apartment. Willow was at her place for Christmas Eve this year, so I slept in and picked her up at noon on Christmas day. She made short work of the presents here, and we followed this up with visits to Jeanine's place and my mom's house.

Now, I feel like I can properly turn my attention toward the upcoming year. I tend to not think past the holidays until the holidays are past. Strange, I know, but the holidays usually become a state of mind that excludes non-holiday thinking.

First though, there will be some reflecting on the year past.

Currently listening to: Kiila "Heartcore"

The Winter Solstice has come and gone, and the light will now return in small increments as we creep toward the Summer Solstice. Today it is sunny, and the wind is wrestling with the trees, causing leafy protests.

Yesterday morning, I woke up at 5am so I could go get Jeanine and be on top of a hill at sunrise. We chose Linda Vista Park because of a convenient hill I remembered climbing during childhood. It was steep and muddy, making for interesting climbing in the dark, but we made it up to the top and looked eastward together as the city lights blinked out and the sky brightened. There was a layer of clouds above the East Bay hills, and a soft wash of fog below them, making them appear isolated. The sun itself was mostly invisible behind clouds, but we could still trace its progress as it rose. Birds called from the bushes as we stood there, and the constant hum of the city was more noticeable than usual - maybe because we were so tuned in to the sounds at the moment.

I'm not sure how long we stood there. Sometimes it doesn't matter. Once we descended, Jeanine danced in puddles to clean her shoes, and we ended the morning in a coffee shop. It would be fun to start every day like that, although there is no way I could get up that early regularly. For example, today I woke up a whole six hours later.

Christmas is around the corner. For the most part, I've managed to avoid holiday crowds. I'm now off work until the 5th, so I've got a couple of weeks during which I can do whatever I want. That's a nice feeling. I'm also done with all of my gift buying, unless of course last minute inspiration strikes (as it sometimes does).

Speaking of Christmas, Willow's class had their Christmas concert at school a couple of Fridays ago. It went well, despite the fact that somebody pulled the fire alarm in the middle of it. A couple of days after that, Willow got to sing to even more people thanks to the fact that her uncle works at a radio station. We visited him while he was on the air, and Willow sang "C is for Candy Cane" live in the studio. She was excited to know that anybody in the world (or at least those with radios and/or computers) could have heard her. Right afterward, I got a call from her brother Nathan. He told me that Sophie had slammed his finger in the car door and broken it. Poor Nathan. Why is it that broken bones always seem to happen during the holidays? We talked for a bit, then I handed the phone to Willow. To her enormous credit, she actually asked about his finger before telling him about how she had just gotten to sing on the radio. That's pretty unusual for a six year old, I think. Good for her!

This past weekend, I went to a memorial for an old friend who passed away a few years ago. Truth be told, he was more of an acquaintance than a friend, and I hadn't seen him in nearly two decades, but some of my old friends were going to be there. It was sort of my version of a high school reunion, but instead of a bunch of high school classmates who I didn't really know, it was a bunch of people from the eighties heavy metal crowd. It was kind of surreal, standing on a rocky outcrop (Tank Hill) in the middle of San Francisco, with city lights glinting below us while Venom blasted from a small boombox. It could have been the eighties all over again, except that we were all in our forties, everybody had digital cameras and cellphones, the word "Facebook" constantly came up in conversation, and the boombox had an I-pod dock. It will probably prove to be the only time that I'm likely to hear heartfelt remembrance interrupted by Venom's "Buried Alive" (the song has a quiet beginning, mostly comprised of the scraping of shovels and the falling of dirt, before swelling into its full abrasive glory). Better yet, everybody heartily approved of the strange sonic juxtaposition. This was a celebration of life rather than a mourning of death. It felt good to be a part of it.

The park was so impressive that I took Jeanine up there the next night, in between a couple of parties she was doing balloons and face-painting for. My role at the parties (especially the second one) was primarily to get beaten about the head by kids with balloon weapons. Nothing makes kids happier than balloon mayhem.

Looking out the window during the second party, we saw a small convoy of motorcycles growl by. They were brilliantly festooned with Christmas lights. Very nice.

We're going through a cold snap right now, or at least as much of a cold snap as this part of California ever gets. This morning, the pool at work was covered in a centimeter thick layer of ice, inspiring me to spend a small bit of time bouncing small objects off its surface. My fingers were so cold afterward that they hurt, but it was so worth it.

I'm going through another phase of re-listening to old cds in preparation for selling them, and even (finally) put one of them up on eBay to sell. It's sort of an experiment, really, just to see how well it does there. This was more or less motivated by the fact that having to start paying off my student loans has fired upon my budget and caused it to sink before the lifeboats could be deployed. Ha. Of course, I'm loading choice songs onto the computer, so all is not lost. Besides, somebody somewhere will see these cds on a shelf or on eBay and get happy. Sure, it's a consumer sort of happiness, but I support that when it's based on a love of music.

I've been getting a bit more creative in the kitchen lately too, making soup and hummus, and trying my hand at making Tibetan Bod-jha (or Poecha), a tea with butter, milk, and salt added. So far, I've failed at this last task, mainly due to buying the wrong kind of tea. Fortunately, Jeanine and I found a tea place in our wanderings this weekend, so I have a place to go to find the right kind. That said, this particular store is where I bought the wrong kind, but now I have a better idea of what the right kind is. There are all sorts of other interesting teas there too. I had no idea people had made the drinking of tea into a sort of wine-like snobbery. I saw tea in there that was older than I am. Who knew?

Another birthday has come and gone, and I am now 42. Looking back at my blog posts from a year ago, I see that I started my last birthday cleaning vomit. This year, coincidentally enough, there was vomit to clean as well. Fortunately, the job fell to someone else. The food reversal occurred after I was officially off duty. Ha.

Sunrise and sunset were beautifully orange, and Jeanine came over with goodies and movies. We went out to dinner, had popcorn, ice cream, and cake, and watched a double feature of Die Monster Die and Kill Baby Kill. Based on the titles alone, it just seemed like the thing to do. Strangely enough, there are a number of plot similarities in the films as well - reluctant drivers (of the "I'm not driving you there" variety), unhelpful/unfriendly villagers, and shunned houses (the Witley manor and the Villa Graps, respectively).