An Ode to Sonia, Brian, Allison, Margaret, Marsha and the Pet Announcement

So JFK, is now a past thought, as I sip my Americano in a comfortable coffee shop on a day so sunny it makes snow seem like a laughable thought.

If you read my previous entry you would deduct that JFK was a miserable experience, but alas, life changed that emotion. It was miserable to miss my flight, and sleeping on the cold floor was miserable, but enjoyment was also present in what could be recounted over several entries.

To be realistic, I likely will not take the time to detail the two days I spent getting to know the "Gate 16" community (yes, our very own gated community!). But, know that in the face of what could have been a very miserable day there were silver linings.

Often mentioned, the silver lining, became a focus of our bonding. It became how we settled a clearly uncomfortable situation (why do the chairs all have arm rests?) into a place of reason and humor. "What's the silver lining... do you want a cookie?"

It never fails. It never fails to use humor in a situation where you've lost all your 'power.' Okay, you can't make those planes fly, or stop that beautiful snow from falling so heavily, so, we learned at Gate 16 to gripe together, problem solve together, eat tiny bags of airplane food together and, most importantly, laugh together. That might just be the simplest of all the silver linings.

JFK does not stand for John F Kennedy Airport

...but it's inappropriate what I want to call it right now.

The last entry was about fall. And now, I'm sitting in JFK at 4:30, where I've been since 11 am staring at the snow I've longed for for a long time now.

I've been on the road since 5:30am. One 15 dollar veggie burger later, and a lot of whiney people, and I'm still sitting in JFK wishing I didn't wish for snow.

Really, what I need to do is wish for a seat on this fully booked flight... seems like wishing for things out of my control worked for me when I wanted all this white stuff--- which is keeping me from my destination.

And today, the day is about the destination, not the journey. During this journey, a tired version of myself has steered away from chatting up a storm like I would normally do, instead I listened to a lot of whiners, a lot of unhappy people, and even my own wailings about 'unfairness' of flights and snow and blah blah blah.

After listening to a lot of it, it does make me want to just shut them up, shut up myself and then go play in the snow. Snow angels on the runway? Maybe that'll make me not want to call J.F.K. Just F.... nevermind. Fingers crossed. Snow angels in Rochester.

Falling for It

I'd like to Thank the Fall season for always being true to itself and for renewing each year my love for fall, and to echo Elena "making me want to eat pumpkin flavored everything."

It's like a baby. You could see a million babies--- but their little baby feet would still bring wonder, amazement, and the desire to cover them with ink and walk them across oaktag. I've had 25 Fall's, and I still want to smell the smells, taste the tastes and find another way to consume a pumkin.

Attachment and Caring

Caring about something is an interesting, lovely and sometimes slippery slope. Attachment and Caring seem to go hand in hand. A wise being would probably interrupt to inform me, at this moment, that infact Attachement and Caring do not have to go hand in hand. They can walk seperately.

I guess I just wonder if their hands would get cold... and, inevitebly join for warmth.

A Querks and the beginning of the Desert

So. I want to finish blogging about my trip for the single reason that I want to finish some journey here in blog land. I always get distracted, have a poor finish record.




Thursday.

I hiked in Black Kettle National Grasslands and at the sight of a Native American slaughter by we friendly whites back in the times of covered wagons and 'rights to land' we thought we had. I cried and walked through amazing grasslands at the exact place of the murder of so many innocent native americans and 200 ponies.

After that walk, I walked in the bright sun on a trail in the Grasslands were I scared pheasants (?) and collected burrs on my shoes and sun on my skin. Lovely warm breeze, hot sun... great walk.

I found Celeste easily in Albuquerqe, we had a brief chat before she left for her class. I spilled my bear story and chatted with the flair of a twelve year old girl who had been grounded. She left for class, I showered, (amazing!) and settled on watching New Moon, the second of this crazy vampire story that has taken the 10-20 year olds by storm the past several years. Angrily, I did some sit ups as I watched an insufficient female star lack personality, remaining, however as the woman everyone loved and fought for. Also, my closing comment on the matter is this: it is not necessary to have the main character hit her head so often and have a man run to her side each time. Get up, girl, and make your own path in life from time to time.

Celeste returned much later than planned, and we went out with her friend Jamie to a local pub. Pub faire did not treat me well. I foolishly ordered a blue cheese dip, served with brown Irish bread and Irish potato chips. This can be boiled down, or fried down, into a simple description: cheesy fat. It hurt my heart to eat, but through alternating with Celeste’s nacho’s and Jamie’s green chile cheese fries, my heart went from hurting to pumping slowly past closing arteries. The conversation was delightful, as well as the beer and the surroundings. You win some, you lose some, and some leave you on the toilet.

The next morning I took a 20 minute jog, hoping to dislodge some of the cheese and grease. Short, but successful, through the warming streets of Albuquerqe, I was so glad to work up a sweat and be moving, not sitting. There was a breeze in the air, and I greeted pancake cacti and prickly pears as I jogged to the grocery store, made stock of the flower choices, and then jogged back and forth again to make my sweaty purchases. I should have run longer, that’s clear, but that I got my butt in gear is something notable, I’d say.

I left the Querk (as I’d like it to be called) and took off for the petrified forest. As I drove I created a new goal: take petrified photos in the petrified forest. I enjoyed my coffee and scones as the mid day southwest lay out before me along I-40.

Vistas. This began a whole new land of vistas, a whole newly designed horizon, like the Midwest and the southwest decided to etch out something unique, in order to be unique. Dry and flat, with tufts of tough green shrubbery and the occasional tumble weed (I kid you not). The mesas in the distance, flat tables of earth, were so different than everything I new mountains to be. I’d seen these before, and I was no stranger to the horizons of the southwest, but, even so, I was impressed. Being easily impressed is a great personality trait, I’ve decided.

I met a NY couple who huffed and puffed quickly with me on the many short hikes, trying to beat the sun and the clock and the ranger that threatetened to kick us out when the sun dissappeared.

Petrified, and a camera filled with petrifed photos, missing the big horn sheep (?), I left to the unknown yet familiar Flagstaff.

I Know I Overreacted

I'll be the first to tell you. The first. I. Over.Re.Act.Ed.

Ozarks were wet, green and foggy but wet wet wet. Up the mountain, 15 miles away from any human and I met a bear on a lovely trail. A mountain side rim trail. Blues babies in the moring, bears in the evening... oh yeah, lots of driving in between. AND. Here is where Bill Bryson comes into play.

In the third chapter, maybe, of Bill Bryson's 'A Walk in the Woods' he discusses his fear and factoids about bear attacks. This goes on for about 5 minutes in the Hoda Fit as I ascend White Rock Mountain in the fog, rain and mud of the Ozarks.

This was a poor choice, you see, when, 45 minutes later, I met a bear on the trail. We could have high fived really, the bear and I.

Let's just say when I sing "Singing in the Rain" I will fondly remember this moment... jacket over my head, shouting the chorus over and over again... no, not the chorus, the one line I know... because it seemed appropiriate to not getting eaten by a bear while alone on a mountain rim in the rain and fog.

Now we can go back to that earlier post that describes my fitful sleep on the lonely mountain. This is where stories join and the journey continues. Details about the bear have been left out, this is one too many posts for one day.

Blue Babies of Memphis

Memphis.

Sunday Night, Monday and Tuesday Morning. Carlos time.

Wonderful sweet Carlos the now kindergarden teacher of some cute babies, I mean children in the land of the blues.

The highlights of my time with Miestro Navarro?

Sunset on the Mississippi River, Big Ass Beers on Beale street and the adorable kindergarden class of characters. Each little baby's first time in school-- only 5 years on the planet and you could write a book about eacho of those little munchkins.