Happy Halloween!

We enjoyed our last Halloween party here last Saturday evening. It was sort of sad, because we said good-bye to few people that we know we might never see again. Last year, we were the last people out the door...we closed that party down! And I am glad that we did, in retrospect.

The doors closed on our business for the season--and for us, forever--on Sunday. Now we're just going through crap and getting things boxed up and thrown away. I packed a box today chock full of stuff. Being a cardboard box, it ripped on me, so I had to unpack it and repack it. In this process, I ended up throwing out so much more stuff. Perhaps I'll continue to do that...box stuff...unbox it...throw more stuff away...rebox. It seemed to work well.

In any case, this photo is me at the big party on Saturday. My only wish is that I could keep my friend's awesome tooled-leather gun belt. That piece made the costume and it is bad-ass in every way, including bullet holsters around the back of the belt. I am considering re-doing this costume for Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Time will tell. I did not actually carry any bullets or fire arms in the belt, if readers are wondering.

Dear Chris Rose:

Hell and Back

I was in New Orleans this past July. I had the good fortune to read your book and I loved every page. I was inspired to write when I was finished, and I thought I did a pretty bang-up job with this editorial. I was elated at how easily the words came, and how happy it had made my friends and family when they read it. I had written it as a tribute to you for being my muse.

I had every intention of writing you an email and sending you a copy of what I had written. I was so busy while I was in New Orleans that I didn't have time to sit down and compose an email I felt worthy of your keen eye. We arrived back in Utah on July 31st, and I thought better of sending you anything at all. Now that I have read "Hell and Back," I realize that I couldn't have sent anything that you would have read that would have pierced the dread and the doom you were experiencing...it would have fallen upon "blind eyes," so to speak.

After slogging through NOLA.com's 14 pages of this particular story, I got to the part on page 14 about crying every day since August 29, 2005. And I started crying. My cousin that lives in New Orleans works as a social worker at an area hospital. She has been working almost seven days a week this year trying to help people that come in for mental and emotional problems. How she does it, I'll never know. She maintained a mostly happy, as well as tired, outlook during our visit. Thinking about what she listens to every day, and how she goes in on Saturday and Sunday to stay caught up with work finally sank in. If she didn't cry, I cried for her today. New Orleans is a tough gig these days.

My husband and I are planning on moving to New Orleans temporarily this winter; as much as I would like stay excited and happy about this plan, I know that the longer I stay in the city I, too, may become susceptible to its heartbreak, anger, and whatever else it has become since...well, you know. I plan on writing right through it all, though. And everytime I read something that you write I am inspired anew, and I think I could actually make a living doing this writing thing. My English degree has languished some since 1989, and my mother would be so happy if I made a stab at writing for a living. So would my husband.

You matter. You touch lives. You've touched mine and I live so very far away. But not for long. I look forward to reading you in the T-P regularly once I arrive. And if I see you on the street I may say hello. I hope you say hello back.

Thanks for inspiring me.

GAO chief: U.S. is in deep trouble.

GAO chief warns economic disaster looms - Yahoo! News

We've been warned. This is one scary article. Americans are spending themselves into oblivion just like Congress. My advice to everyone in the U.S. as of this moment (not expert advice here, not making claims to anything, however...):

1. Pay off your debts. Now. Credit cards, home equity loans, cars, etc.
2. Pay off your home loan, if possible.
3. Start saving money for a rainy day, because if the GAO is right, there is a hurricane-sized rainy day coming if we don't get the deficit under control.
4. Vote for people who will end this money-sucking war and get America's budget back on track, even if it means reversing tax cuts (most of those were for people who make six figures a year, anyway).

Notice that I didn't recommend buying stocks. Although the market has performed astonishingly well in the past few weeks, what goes up must come down. And the last week in October is notorious for that "coming down" trend. Be wary of credit card debt since Congress passed legislation last year that effictively bars people from using bankrupcy as a means of getting out of paying credit card debt. Citibank (and Ditech, etc.) can now show up at your door and claim all that you have against your debt if you can't pay it. Pay those bloodsuckers off first if possible.

The clouds are brewing...while things are relatively stable, now would be good to start with any alterations to your lifestyle and get out of debt so you can hunker down through the coming hard times.

Yes, I sound like someone's grandma, I know. But grandmas did live through the last economic depression, and they know of what they speak. They remember people living in cars, living in cardboard boxes, standing in soup lines, and moving to California to be migrant workers.

News flash: vampires don't exist.

Science takes a bite out of vampires - Yahoo! News

Aside from the honestly scary news in the news, I like it when something like the article above comes out, because you know that people out there actually believe in vampires. It's funny and ridiculous. Ghosts, I have to admit, may exist. As a questioning person I would like to know more about this phenomenon...I suspect it has to do with the human brain and its mostly unknown workings.

To be scared by the motion picture industry is an honest night's enjoyment. I prefer the more cerebral frights to the slasher films. Here are some of my seasonal favorites:

The Legend of Hell House, with Roddy McDowell. Creepy 1960s horror movie about a house haunted by a devil-worshipping hedonist and the psychics that are tortured by him. The last scene is played out on Christmas Day. The most atmospheric soundtrack you can imagine adds to the horror.

The Changling, with George C. Scott. I saw this movie as a teenager and couldn't be ripped away. Scott gives a great performace as a widower in a huge haunted house. The tension in this movie is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

The Haunting. "Based on a true story" of Ed and Lorraine Warren's attempt to remove a demon from the home of a terrified family.

The Sixth Sense. Instant classic.

The Mothman Prophecies. I don't know about you, but I think something is in the water in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. And indeed, something is...Mothman's home turf is, in real life, a Superfund Clean-up Site. However, I was scared silly by the telephone scene in the hotel room.

If I can remember other films, I'll update. I was struggling for a few minutes. I can tell you that I hated the "Blair Witch Project." I just couldn't suspend my disbelief enough to swallow being lost in Maryland when you can walk in any direction for less than ten miles and hit a town. Plus the characters were annoying. I had no sympathy for them.

If you can find the older two movies at the top of my list, I think they are possibly the best. Look into it.

The Constitution, Article 1, Section 9...gone.

Bush signs bill on terror prosecution - Yahoo! News

And in other news today, aside from Madonna in Africa, the United States of America as we know it died a very quiet death.

Now, if you are deemed an "enemy combatant," you too can be thrown away in some hole for the rest of your life with no trial. I wonder when newspaper editors, bloggers, and television producers that disagree with the government will start to be arrested. Far fetched, perhaps. Impossible? Not anymore.

Sleep, America, sleep. Watch your shows on TV. Go shopping. Worry about your mortgage and your credit cards. Shhhhh, shhhhh.

Kim Jong Il: He's seen Team America

IMDB for Kim Jong-Il

Well, this explains some things:

He (Kim Jong-Il) is portrayed as a villainous marionette in the comedy film Team America: World Police (2004). The creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, sent a gift reel to Kim.

No wonder he's gone nuclear; he thinks Team America is coming for him. Seriously, I wonder what he thought of the film.

These are strange times we live in. And as concerned as I am, as anyone is, about North Korea's ambitions, what can we do? I think Matt and Trey might be onto something...we ought to send him free movies. Maybe that's all he wants.

I would hate for fighting to resume in Korea.

PostSecret Mystery

PostSecret Map Mystery

As some of you may know, I am a regular visitor to the PostSecret blog. Last week, a postcard with latitude and longitude coordinates was mailed in. As an amateur map nut I was very interested in the post card. We have worked with maps so often here that over the years I have become adept at looking at topograpic lines and visualizing the terrain. I clicked the Google Maps link and the waypoint was somewhere in Maryland.

This week, someone sent in a photo of the supposed area, a wooded drainage with what looks like a burrow, or some sort of shallow cave. Frank the webmaster promises to post more info as he checks into this. Personally, I'm getting a creepy vibe just looking at the photo. I feel like something is in the hole. Maybe even someONE. Maybe not. Perhaps some sort of meaningful life experience went down in this place. It's a mystery. I love good mysteries. I can say that if I lived nearby I would probably go and look around. Obviously someone did otherwise the new photo wouldn't be posted. Hand-held GPS units make doing this kind of thing so easy anymore. You just punch in the coordinates, then hit the "go to" button, and a compass pops up leading you to the point. It's very cool.

I always look at PostSecret every week, and I will be anxious to discover what has gone down in the latest installment of the map postcard mystery. I will be sort of disappointed if the coordinates point to some kind of geo-caching box. Geo-caching is a new hiking craze in outdoor recreation that uses GPS and coordinates to located hidden boxes in hiking areas. You find the box, leave something, and sign a guest register of some sort.

Maybe that's all that this is. Maybe it's something more sinister. I'm sure that more PostSecret readers will go and look around there as Frank continues to re-post this particular card, which is something that he doesn't do very often.

Ruminations on moving.

My husband and I invariably get "the look" from people when we explain that we're moving to New Orleans. Yeah, "the look." Then we get a polite "oh" or "wow" or nothing at all but a nod and smile.

Looking around at our current environs, the big open west, people can't understand why we'd be leaving the beauty of the canyons. True, Utah is one of the most beautiful places in the lower 48. It's wild, it's remote, and it's shockingly gorgeous. And I have enjoyed our six-plus years here as much as I could, small town nonsense notwithstanding. The hiking and camping is second to none, and the air and water are clean. There is little crime, and we have left town for a few days with the keys in the car, forgetting. Because where there isn't crime, you just sort of stop fearing those scenarios of bad teens or crack-heads stealing your car.

Moving to New Orleans is alright with me for the time being. I love the town, the people are really great, and my in-laws that live there are really great people that, before, I may not have had a chance to meet and get to know. The fact of the matter is we both need a change. We need a break from small town bullshit that is worse than the worst high school clique crap you could imagine--then compound that with an insular religious majority that could care less if you dropped off the face of the earth and you get the picture. We need a break from living somewhere that is SO remote that the closest REAL grocery store or Home Depot is 2 1/2 hours' driving, one way, from our front door. We need a break from the outdoor industry, which we have been involved in since 1995 for him, 1996 for me. And I am bored with it. There is no intellectual stimulation in it for me and I feel, at this point, that I am going through the motions. And that is a bad sign. It's time to move on, professionally and geographically.

As troubled as New Orleans is, and as concerned (or perplexed) as some are about the city as a transition way point for us, I can honestly say that the place is a great match for us. It is challenging to live there in several ways but we are up to it, particularly since we have no complete working kitchen-we're a cooktop away from one though. We're camping people, used to hard conditions, so that wasn't really a problem for us. Plus, we could always run downstairs and borrow our cousin's kitchen in a pinch (she's wonderful like that). We stayed in the unit we were working in with no furniture except two camping chairs and a folding table. We slept on the floor on an inflatable mattress. No sweat.

It's a new place to "learn" about--from streets, highways and bypasses, to people, food, and cultural customs. It's a whole new part of the United States for us...a new eco-system, new scenery, and new politics. Consumption of alcohol isn't regulated there or looked down on. The food is mostly incredible, as are the local ingredients that make it so. We can go to the supermarket in minutes and find liquor (whoa!) as well as decent produce. A veterinarian is only minutes away as well. And the dentist? Well, I'm sure that the same holds true. No more insidious commutes for us this winter...and no snow.

We may have "fish-out-of-water" syndrome in New Orleans. You know the old story, about how country folk moving to the big city wind their way around in a charmed manner. That may only be half-true this time as we have been there twice since Katrina: for a month last December, and for month this past July. Last time, we were getting used to locking the car, used to hearing traffic 24 hours a day, used to occasional gun fire, and used to various and sundry police sirens and ambulance wails. I still look around in awe when we go on walks through the Garden District, but you better believe I'm watching my back.

I had only been to New Orleans once before in my life...many many years ago in the early 90s. I can't remember much about it except that, as a youngster in my 20s, I drank too much. When I finally returned again last December I was concerned about the amount of trash around the building where we were working, so I started picking it up, as if everyone in New Orleans would do that. Ha! When I was back this July, the trash was back and so were thousands more people. I declined to pick anything up for fear of disease. Maybe that "fish-out-of-water" thing may not be so pronounced...except for my clothing choices which are from the mountain-girl-thrift-store-disaster school with some fleece thrown in. That will probably give me away as a non-local. That and my decidedly midwestern accent, being a Kansas City native.

At the least, my husband and I have to build a kitchen, do some painting, build a wall, move a door, and re-grout some tile. At the most we'll be looking for other jobs in and around the city. As a former small business owner this will be the most fun, I think. Because I know what I'm worth, what I will put up with and what I won't, what I would do for free just to learn and what I'd have to paid A LOT to do. I can't wait to see how my new life unfolds. I am an adventurer, and moving to New Orleans is about the most intense urban adventure that one could have in the 21st century in America. And I'll be writing.

Keep reading.

The Guard and the Ghosts

cbs5.com - Guardsmen Sense Ghostly Presence In New Orleans

This story from a CBS affiliate in San Francisco is sort of strange and spooky. During last year's hurricane work, apparently some guard members had ghostly encounters in New Orleans. But be sure to watch the video. The Army chaplain talking about New Orleans "cannibalism" is scarier than any ghost.

New Orleans drowning in crime wave

NOLA.com: Reader: Guardsmen not allowed to protect us

Reading the post above from a New Orleans resident who blogged about a mugging made me mad. Really really mad.

And 'scuse me for being pissed off, but I have family in NO and I am concerned for their safety.

If the powers-that-be are concerned that national guard troops might hurt tourism, then what the hell do they think a wave of gang shooting sprees, robberies at gunpoint, and general lawlessness will do to the tourism industry? Someone at City Hall better pull their head out of the...ahem...sand pretty damn quick considering the lastest crime spree that has taken hold of the city.

When I was in NO last December, the National Guard was everywhere, and the tourists on Bourbon Street LOVED them! Whoever (or whatever business or group) is complaining about the national guard needs--dare I say it--an encounter with criminals.

What in the hell is...or isn't...going on down there? I suppose I'll find out in December, which, for the most part, I am still extremely excited about, even considering this rash of gun violence. The same thing was going on this summer, too. When we got to town, it was like a quiet descended for the month of July, which was nice. Then the shooting started again after we left.

Calling all VooDoo practitioners...New Orleans needs a spell for peace. Or cleansing. Or something.

The Great Mesquite, Nevada Run.

One of the better things about living in Utah is being so close to Nevada. Now, some of you might think that that's not so great. Listen...when you live in a town with no fast food, no bars or nightly entertainment, and where the liquor store is actually located inside another business that you'd rather not, uh, support, you can come talk to me after you've lived like that. Nevada would be looking pretty good to you, too. Hell, living in Utah is makes anything else look great. It's sort of like beer goggles. *hic*

So we had a chance to run down to Mesquite, Nevada last night with some friends of ours. We drank lots of free drinks and gambled, kenoed, pokered, and slotted our way through the casino. Then we had dinner at a really great steak house, and went back for more gambling. Not that we're huge gamblers, really. We're sort of over that since Nevada has always been close to where we lived. We play the penny stuff now since we're pretty sure it's about the wheels and bells and dumb music. We usually play black jack, too. Because machines really are "bandits." And we sent limits. It's all about discipline.

And boredom. We came home this afternoon because all we can really take of that Nevada stuff is about one long night. After that it's just boring. Boring.

The drive to Mesquite is really pretty. Right outside of St. George, Utah, you go into Arizona for just a teeny tiny corner, then the highway literally plunges through the Virgin River Gorge. This is the most gnarly, rugged, desert rock canyon I've seen, and I've seen plenty. Seriously, this place looks like the album cover to "Houses of the Holy" without the naked blonde kids, though. I've seen Desert Big Horn Sheep along this highway, climbling on the rock. When you finally come out on the other side of the gorge, you are looking into the Basin & Range of Nevada. It's austere desert with huge mountains in the distance. There is the town of Beaver Dam, Arizona, then voila! The garish lights of Mesquite are right there, as is the "Welcome to Nevada" sign. This is the fastest growing town in the United States right now. A lot of old people live there...it's becoming some kind of retirement mecca because it's not real cold there, ever. And if you're retired, and sort of better off than most, and into gambling or golf, this is your town.

We had a needed break, and we took it. In fact, we don't know when we'll get to Nevada again. We aren't sure if that's a destination in our future because we have so many other things to do to prepare for the big move. As sort of sad as that thought is, I am completely excited to move to New Orleans. It's no Nevada, and in a good way at that. It has a helluva lot more going on entertainment-wise. They have these things called "bars" and people go there and listen to other people play music--I think they're called "bands." Cool, huh?

Buck O'Neil died.

ESPN.com - MLB - Former Negro Leaguer O'Neil dies

I was SO hoping Buck O'Neil would be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame before he died. He almost made it last year, but was denied Cooperstown by one vote. It pissed me off at the time. Now it's just plain sad.

I have always been proud to be from Kansas City, and Mr. O'Neil most certainly was a shining example of how great our town is. I will miss not being there for his big send-off. I know Kansas City will throw a huge party for him and it will be a decent, heart-felt gathering.

I'm not a huge baseball fan, but I do love the game. To me, baseball is the Great American Pastime, not football. I'll never know batting averages, I can't tell you when Mickey Mantle retired, and I'll never remember who tagged who out in the ninth of the last game in the 1986 World Series, and I was there to see it. I still can't remember...I was lost in some kind of haze. The Royals winning was too religious, too blinding a moment to remember much else.

But I do know that Buck O'Neil was a good guy. He loved Kansas City. He loved Arthur Bryant's Bar-B-Que. And he loved baseball. You can't do much better than that.

Electoral-Vote.com

Election 2006: Senate and House Races Updated Daily

My husband is addicted to this web site. Since the Foley Affair began, watching the numbers change has been a daily activity here at our computer center. When we began looking a few weeks ago, it was still predicting a Republican majority. Guess what the projections are now?

Subdued.

It's uncharacteristically rainy here today, which is just fine for a day that marks the funerals of four innocent children. I don't usually get worked up over stories like this, but I found myself crying while I was watching TV two days ago when this story broke. The last time I cried about something on the news was September 1, 2005...watching people scream for help in New Orleans.

I'm not an overly emotional person. I used to be, but I am not anymore. I don't cry at the drop of a hat. These days, it takes a lot for me to break down. A LOT. Maybe that's a sorry side-effect of living in one of the meanest towns in America. Maybe it's a sign of strength, or a sign that I'm horribly jaded. I am not sure which. Perhaps being jaded is a strength so you can help other people in their time of need without having an old-fashioned come-apart.

I know that something inside of me still works correctly, though, because I know that these horrible stories were worth a few tears. At least I'm not a robot. I'm not completely dead inside. Living here hasn't totally hardened my heart; there is still some part of me that responds normally, thank god. Even though media coverage can sometimes be silly or over-the-top, these stories are still, at their core, about how hard it is to be a human being sometimes. And I can totally relate.

Google: Keeping them Honest

Google boss warns politicians about Internet power

(Google CEO Eric Schmidt)...predicted that "truth predictor" software would, within five years, "hold politicians to account." People would be able to use programs to check seemingly factual statements against historical data to see to see if they were correct.

"One of my messages to them (politicians) is to think about having every one of your voters online all the time, then inputting 'is this true or false.' We (at Google) are not in charge of truth but we might be able to give a probability," he told the newspaper.

Whoa! Who does this guy think he is, anyway? God?

Hastert knew--chose to sit on ass instead

GOP leaders knew of Foley e-mail in '05 - Yahoo! News

This story is so gross I don't know where to begin. I can say with absolute certainty that, if a co-worker of mine sent "overly-friendly" messages to an underage volunteer, I would try my best to get rid of him. Why didn't Hastert do anything? What on earth justified keeping this guy in congress for another year before this story broke? What, exactly, makes "overly-friendly" any less disgusting than "overtly sexual" for crying out loud?

NOw Mr. Foley has checked into an alcohol treatment program hoping that that action will be some sort of Mel-Gibson-redemption-get-out-of-jail-free move. I can smell the Christian right screaming "thank you Jesus for your forgiveness" almost as I type this. The GOP's next move?

Saying that "overly friendly" emails to underage boys was not worth worrying about, so they left Foley alone. Pigs. Vile rude pigs...(thanks to Elton John).

Blog Reading.

Usually, I don't ramble on about what I do when I have time to sit around on the internet and surf. But I have to give a shout-out to two blogs that have really sucked me in lately.

The first is Humid Haney Rants, otherwise known as "Angry, but in a good way," on my list of fave links to the left. I found his blog by accident twice. Once after I visited "Flood and Loathing," (which is annother New Orleans blog that I love, but I have to say that Dale doesn't post very often, so I can catch up reading that once a month), and once following a link on a sticker that I saw in a free mag when we were in the Big Easy. It was destiny that I would find him and read and become enthralled. Haney! Good lord, he posts about everything, from politics local and national, to TV, to design and art and music, his friends, recipes, whatever. I am really enjoying reading his ramblings, and yes, he IS angry in a good way, dammit.

I found another blog today, Mrs. Morrison's Hotel, recently begun and written by Patricia Kennealy Morrison. Who? Just go and read it. She is immediately engrossing. I am loving her take on NYC life and life in general. I have to say, I read her book about Jim Morrison in 1995 or thereabouts, and I loved it. I had forgotten about that until I found her blog by surfing around--you guessed it--Wikipedia. I don't know what else to say about her, except that she's a totally in-the-now writer and I feel like I'm sitting and talking with her when I read her, and that's always a good sign. Her polemics on religion are particularly excellent, as are her observations on impolite New Yawkers that stand in the way on sidewalks. I found myself laughing out loud about a dozen times this afternoon, and when I read all there was to read, it was evening. She also chose the same blogspot template that I have, and she has a Whitman quote as well. Outstanding! We're on the same page in so many ways.

I usually don't do this (talk about my web reading) but I've been reading these writers and smiling--and laughing, too! And if anyone is reading me and smiling, perhaps I can spread the joy by sharing my finds.

A Walk in my Backyard.

We played hooky on Saturday and went for a really intense hike down on the desert. The evening before, we loaded up the camping gear and left town with Ricki and Sandy...again. They are very good at cajoling us to leave the store and do things in the wilderness, which is truly the reason that we moved here. This time, it was personal.

Husband and I have a few canyons on our "list" of hikes that we have not been able to get to, for one reason or another. It was now or never. And now was great, because the weather was great. And by great, I mean that it was fan-fucking-tastic. Day weather? Low 80s. Night? We were in t-shirts and shorts all night--no fleece, no pants, no extra clothes. It was beautiful...and the night sky from the most remote area in the lower 48? Incomparable, as usual. We saw many shooting stars, too. When I awoke at 3:30 a.m. I needed to "go outside," and so I did wearing only my shoes. The night sky and the air temperature could not have been more perfect. It will be a fond memory for me.

The food that we all packed was pretty great, too. Husband made an incredible chicken and Jasmine rice stew with leeks. Sandy made these delicious appetizers with cream cheese, dill and capers, topped with cold grilled salmon and cold sauteed veggies. She served them up on a multi-grain cracker with some sauvignon blanc. It was delicious. She claimed that it would have been better with goat cheese, and I do not doubt that, but it was pretty damn good as is. She also whipped up a simple salad from garden tomatoes and red onion with olive oil, etc. It was perfect with the chicken stew. Throw in a few cold Apricot Hefeweizens (unfiltered wheat beer) from Wasatch Beers, add a camp fire, and presto! It was a perfect "around-the-camp" night.

The next day, we packed our gear and packed for the hike. It began easily enough, just walking over fairly level sandstone heading down to a drainage that we thought might be the canyon we were seeking (it was--by sheer luck). It began to get a bit harder as we hiked on. It turned into a fairly physically intense effort as we trekked over the petrified sand dunes that are, in this age, Navajo Sandstone mounds. My calves still ache, even today. We found an old cattle trail down into the canyon, where we found running spring water, Cottonwood trees, and the old red walls and black stripes that typify this terrain. And with the touch of fall on the leaves, it added an extra kick of color to the already surreal landscape that these oases imbue. We had lunch and poked around, but realized that we needed to depart if we were to get back to town that evening.

We climbed out and found our way back to the car; the hike had taken about eight hours in total. We were all tired, and the drive back into town from where we were was no joyride, to be sure. The sighting of a HUGE Tarantula spider was a nifty aside as we departed. It would be almost two hours on the worst dirt road you can imagine (yeah--but then it's actually worse than that) before the lights of our mean little town appeared on the horizon. It was a great adventure, and now Ricki is talking about a backpack, which I could be up for, absolutely. But that road! Ack! What sacrifices we make when we are hooked on beauty...what aggravations we tolerate when nature calls in all her largesse...