Tell of Woe

Well it seems I'm in full-on blogger mode again, which means I've reverted to my Great Obsession.

It makes me want to laugh. Or cry.

It's finally snowing in Boulder. The wind is howling and we could get as much as a foot by tomorrow morning, along with sub-zero temperatures. Counting today I have four more days before I have to go back into the office. I plan to spend the majority of that time fireside knocking out a few books, doing a little blogging, and working on my novel.

So what brought my obsessive feelings back? Partly I wanted them to come back. I missed them, if that makes sense. I guess it's how I've come to define myself. It makes me wonder how I'd feel if I ever were to achieve my fantasy. I mean imagine you spent your whole life fantasizing of, say, going to Greece. Then you finally get to go. Upon returning home, what then? What comes next? Would you be satisfied thereafter? Or would you find that it was the obsession with Greece, rather than Greece itself, that you actually needed?

Partly my obsession was brought back by just not being at work. I haven't been in the office since last Wednesday. It's now Thursday of the following week. In the past week I've been to the Leanin' Tree Museum of Western Art twice, and that always catapults me back into hardcore Western fantasizing. It's one of the best little museums I've ever been to and the only art museum I've ever loved. It's in Boulder, it's free and open to the public, and it's usually very quiet so it's a good place to meditate on the things near and dear to my heart. And the art collection is amazing. Even my parents loved it. Often I'll go alone during some off-time when I'm sure to be the only one there and I'll spend an hour or two gazing into an intangible world that captivates me. Every sculpture, every painting is a moment frozen in time - yet they all tell a story, however brief, and give one a glimpse of what was and what would be, even if the stories are only based loosely on historical events.

The deep lines painted on an old Cherokee woman's face as she stares off into the desert at something only she can see; the cowboy about to be crushed by his sun fishing horse; the war party in the pale moonlight; the haunting spirit horse mourning the death of his warrior; the epic struggle between hunter and mountain lion; the tenderness of two cowboys at Thanksgiving in a rugged and unforgiving world; the packers after a successful hunt; breathtaking western landscapes with all their minute detail and a thousand things more. These images move me and haunt me; they fill my soul with something I can't get from the daily grind of "normal" life.

And finally, my obsessive feelings were brought back by getting out into the mountains. Rocky Mountain National Park is what keeps me sane, and it's not even the most perfect slice of the American West. That title belongs to Yellowstone, the only in-tact ecosystem in the lower 48 that still looks and functions more or less like it did before the arrival of the white man and all of his destructive ways. I think that when the day comes that I visit Yellowstone I won't want to leave. Wolves, grizzlies, wolverines, bison, untrammeled forests and meadows, snow-capped peaks and untamed rivers - Yellowstone is the last refuge of Wild America outside of Alaska.

For lunch today I sat down with a warm bowl of leftover homemade chicken soup: potatoes, carrots and dried oregano from the garden and chicken from a local farm. I served it with a leftover buttermilk biscuit I made from scratch for breakfast yesterday. In the glow of the Christmas tree I watched the snow falling outside, warmed by my soup and my thoughts. This is heaven for me, this moment.

I'm a philosopher. That's what I really am, no bones about it. I probably wouldn't make for an exceptional cowboy; I'm not reckless enough. I probably wouldn't make for an exceptional mountain man; I may not be tough enough. I don't make an exceptional analyst or businessman; I don't care enough. What drives me is a desire to become enlightened and to be inspired. What thrills me is to enlighten and inspire others. What comforts me is nature. What satisfies me is purpose.

I don't want to be a scientist; they care only for what makes a thing tick. I don't want to be a businessman; they care only for making money. I don't want to be an adventurer; they care only for the thrill of the moment. I don't want to be a politician; they care only for winning the game.

I think my calling in life is to be a teacher, a writer, a naturalist, a philosopher, and a non-academic historian. These things I am now, as much as I can be. I do want to know about science, I do want to have business sense, and I do want to understand the game. We need professionals in all areas I suppose. Thing is, I don't want to specialize in the activities. I want a bird's eye view of all of them, to understand how they form our world. I want to know who we are, where we came from, where we are going, why we do what we do, or don't. I want to inspire people to think beyond what makes a thing tick, to care for more than just money, and to realize that the game has no value but that which we assign to it. I despise the concept of money and accumulating wealth in monetary form. I despise the corporate ladder and the Western concept of "progress." Alas, this is the world in which I live, so I struggle to find a way to "earn a living" from the things I love, rather than from the unsatisfying activities that I know will work but leave me feeling empty. My body is clothed and nourished by my career success, but my soul is left destitute.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Home

It has been really great seeing friends and family, but I've had enough of traffic, strip malls, hydrogenated oils and that godforsaken television.

Boulder, take me away!

How Quickly We Forget

Yesterday I saw my Aunt Snoopy, mom's sister, for the first time in nearly a decade. (Nearly our entire family has odd nicknames, and some of us have multiple nicknames that are used interchangeably. I need to sit my mom down and find out where these names came from.) I walked inside of Aunt Snoopy's "new" (to me) house and it was like a blast from the past. My family never seems to evolve. People get older, even get new houses, but it's like they're stuck in a time warp in terms of what's going on in the mind.

I love my Aunt Snoopy. She's as sweet as can be. But she, along with everyone else down in this part of Texas, have reminded me how different my life is today. They've also reminded me why I am the way I am. My Boulder friends wonder why I bought a Ford F350 Super Crew long bed 4x4, love my cowboy hat and dream of a ranch? They need only visit my family in Texas for a day and all of their questions would be answered. It even slapped me in the face.

Snoopy's house is pretty typical of what you'll see if you visit any household belonging to a member of my family: American and Texas flags flying on the flagpole out front, huge framed emblems of the Seal of Texas on the walls, mounted deer heads and other assorted animals placed around the house, paintings of cowboys, sculptures of cowboys, references to cowboys, trinkets and fridge magnets and t-shirts and coasters and dishes with Texas symbols on them, signs out front that say things like "We don't dial 9-1-1" next to an image of a pistol, sprawling property with several big trucks in the driveway, etc. And then there's that thick Texas accent. I swear I don't know how I ever lost mine. Maybe it was the same force that took me to college and out of Texas. I'm one of only two of all the family with a four year college education, and both of us left Texas. In fact, after we left Snoopy's house, mom and I drove around the country a little bit just looking. I commented how beautiful it was and how I still can't believe you can buy a huge house on 20 acres of land for $150,000 out here. I could have a garden that goes forever and all the horses I could stand! And every house has a Super Duty, standard. But mom said she didn't want me to move back. "I would love nothing more than to have you close to me, but you'd be miserable here. You're better than this. You would never be happy living around all of these backward rednecks. You'd miss the mountains. You'd miss Boulder. You'd miss being around all of those smart, educated people and doing good things for the world." And she's right of course. I'd have no friends here, not now. I've evolved too much. Kinda made me sad, actually.

Then this morning I awoke to rain - hot, steamy rain. It's the day before Christmas eve and it feels like a tropical rainforest outside. I read in the news this morning that Boulder is going to have 10 inches of snow on the ground by Christmas Day. I have friends there who are going skiing. There's a live webcam of Pearl and 11th on the front page of www.dailycamera.com. I've been watching it for the past hour. You can just see the restaurant Salt on the left side, and to the right is the Boulder Bookstore. People are walking on white sidewalks and I miss Boulder deeply.

It's funny. I really do love Colorado and Texas in equal but different ways. They are both home to me. I'm reminded of my road trip to Austin last summer and that moment when I realized there are two loves in my life.

Feels like Christmas in July

It's not exactly tropical but it's close enough for me.

I'm at mom's house outside of Houston. This morning I awoke to a beautiful sunny day and sat out by the pool in the sunshine, barefoot and in shorts. It's the first day of winter. It's supposed to be near 70 today. Except for the higher humidity, it feels very much like early summer in Boulder.

The Christmas lights are up and everything in the house looks very festive, but I can't shake the feeling that it's summer. I grew up literally five miles from here and yet I find this surprising and disorienting. But I also find it comfortable and familiar. The big trees are just now dropping their brown leaves, a process we went through in Boulder months ago. I left Boulder with snow on the ground, and here I'm walking around like I'm at the beach.

I actually find it liberating. Sometimes in the cold of Colorado I start to feel trapped, though much less so now that I've had a few years to adjust. Often in the dead of a Colorado winter you can't leave the house without being bundled up in five layers from head to toe, yet here I am in Texas lounging poolside and contemplating a swim. But as I sat there wiggling my toes in the December sunshine I remembered the days when I fantasized about mountains and what it must be like to actually have snow at Christmas. It always bugged me that the Christmas cards and decorations depicted snowmen and wintry scenes, when outside the grass was green and short sleeves were in order.

I think I'm pretty lucky to have the opportunity to live in both worlds.

Minus One

Looks like we're going to have our first night below zero. It's damned cold out there.

Earlier this week I made out my Christmas cards and threw the whole stack in a public mail box. As they left my hand I realized I hadn't stamped them. Too late.

Today they appeared in my mailbox bundled neatly with a rubber band. Maybe that was to make up for the fact that they looked like they'd been to hell and back. All of them were scuffed, scratched, covered in black, blue and red smears. Some had tattered or shredded corners, all were filthy, and two of them had actually been ripped completely open. One was hastily taped up with FOUR large strips (and believe me, it needed every one of them), the other was just left flapping in the breeze. And of course every one of them had "RETURN FOR POSTAGE" stamped in bold red letters across the front. All this happened in a period of 48 hours in getting them to my home from the mailbox two blocks away.

So now when you get your Christmas card you'll know why it looks so sad.

Merry Christmas!

I Love a Snowy Night

It's 2AM and I'm wide awake. I'm not prone to insomnia, but I do have a bout of it a few times a year. Maybe it's the snow. For nearly the last month the weather has been clear, sunny and mild, but this afternoon snow clouds rolled in. Flakes started falling around 9PM and there's now several inches on the ground. I always get excited when it snows, especially if it's been awhile.

Maybe it's the holidays. I keep thinking about my upcoming road trip to Texas and how nice it'll be to see family and friends. I love a good road trip, and I'm excited to give my mom her gifts this year. I'm also excited to see Austin again and revisit some of my favorite haunts.

Maybe it's my new toys. I ordered a new photo printer and scanner to do some photo restoration which I've been putting off for a long time. My old printer doesn't print photo quality, and my old scanner is so hopelessly ancient it won't even work with my new OS. Fortunately tomorrow is electronics recycling day at the lab. My packages should also arrive tomorrow and I can't wait to get at them.

Maybe it's my career. Grades were posted yesterday and I got A's in both of my classes. I also got registered for the classes I need for next quarter. I'm kind of excited about it. Work is going well and I sometimes can't help imagining where I'll be in my career next year or five years or ten years from now. Will it involve horses or computers? Don't know, but I suppose I can't really go wrong either way. It's really nice to feel that way.

Maybe it's summer fun. I've been mulling my options for a serious vacation. I'm thinking Spain, summer of 2010. I've got a friend that lives there. Two weeks in Spain with my own personal native tour guide? Sounds fun. Australia? Hawaii? All options are on the table.

Tomorrow is going to suck if I can't get some sleep.

'Tis the Season

I put up my Christmas decorations today. I love Christmas. I always have. Even when I was a broke college student living in a 3 bedroom house with five other students, I had a tiny little plastic Christmas tree in my room decorated with a 99 cent box of tiny plastic ornaments. I still have the tree, though it stays in a box in the basement.

Some complain that Thanksgiving weekend is way too early to start celebrating Christmas. I disagree. Many cultures have celebrations that last days or weeks, and in my mind the Thanksgiving-Christmas bridge is ours. Thanksgiving is a celebration of fall and marks the beginning of Christmas, which in my mind is a celebration of winter, of loved ones, and of all things good. I don't do the religious thing.

One of my trees is decorated with ornaments that have a lot of sentimental value. I've got ornaments Mom gave me that I remember hanging on the tree when I was in kindergarten. I've got ornaments I made with Mom and Memaw. I've got ornaments given to me by friends and at special times in my life. It's tradition for me, going back a long time, to unwrap each ornament one by one and place it on the tree. Until recent years I always decorated Mom's tree with her, but the last few years we haven't gotten together for Thanksgiving so I haven't been able to help her. I told her this weekend that starting next year, we're not skipping Thanksgiving anymore. I don't know how many more we have left together. I have no cause for alarm, but one never knows. There's no good excuse for not spending extra time with the people you love. None.

Anyway, my other tree is a Colorado tree. All the ornaments are hand made of natural materials, and take the form of things that remind me of Colorado: elk, bison, raccoon, otter, bear and other animal figures, a tiny handwoven creel, a little outhouse made of wood, a tiny pair of snowshoes, etc.

After dinner, when the trees are all decorated, the garland and wreaths are up and the fire is crackling, we turn down the lights (except on the trees of course) and sit quietly, looking at it all. Gerard falls asleep, but I just sit thinking.

As a child I really did feel like there was something magical about Christmas. I was always scared of the dark, but I was never scared of anything when the Christmas lights were on. Never. For a few weeks every year in December, I would go to bed seeing the multi-colored glow of the lights outside my window and I knew that no vampires, werewolves or boogie men could enter my domain. I would lay there staring at the window with a smile on my face, dreaming of that sparkling tree and all those shiny gifts, until I fell asleep. Sometimes I'd even sneak out of bed late at night, turn on the tree and sit there for hours just watching it twinkle.

Adulthood has a way of destroying that childhood magic, though I must stay some of it still lingers in me. Every year without fail I decorate my home to Christmas music, ooh and aah over the ornaments, and think happy Christmasy thoughts. Though now it's tinged with sadness because I know too much of the world. Now I know that Christmas can't really keep the vampires away.

Nonetheless, I think celebrations and traditions are very important. They break up the year. They offer something fun and pretty and comforting and purely nonsensical to our otherwise robotic society. They give me a chance to indulge, to love something just for the sake of loving it. I don't get into the mass consumerism thing, but I do love to give gifts. I like to give homemade jams and preserves, hand-poured candles and other things you can't just run down to any Wal-Mart and buy. I like to give things that can be used and enjoyed, things that real people made, things that mean something to me and to the receiver.

I once saw a National Geographic documentary where natives in some tropical rainforest celebrated something or other every year. The climax of the festival occurred when a giant yam was revealed. A yam. Now this really was a tremendous yam. It was so big it required several people to carry it. These people eat yams all year long, but each year the men set out to find the biggest yam in the forest, hide it, and unveil it during this ceremony when everyone goes nuts. To us, it's just a big yam. But to them, it's something else entirely. Is that so different than what we do? In our modern Western society we can have anything we want whenever we want, but candy canes, Christmas lights and red velvet cake are pretty scarce in July. It's a self-imposed deprivation to make an ordinary day feel extraordinary. The villagers create something special by digging up giant yam once a year. Americans create something special by only breaking out our tinsel and lights once a year. The objects in and of themselves are meaningless, but cultures assign great meaning to them and thus reap the benefits of the joyous feelings that follow. Humans are a strange species, but what would we be without our holidays and our culture and all of the other odd things that help define us? I guess we'd be robots: orderly, practical, predictable. Boring. Dead.

No thanks. Merry Christmas!

Thanksgiving 2009

Well another delicious Thanksgiving has come and gone. It started Wednesday when the lab closed early. Yesterday (T-Day) was just gorgeous, as most days are in Boulder. We slept in, didn't do much for most of the morning, then spent the better part of the afternoon biking around town. Yesterday evening we had dinner with our friends Christine and Mark and a few other couples. Let me tell ya, that girl can cook. Christine is a professor at the University and her husband Mark is in high tech. They have no kids, unless you count Monroe their 13 year old lab who they treat like a child. Mark is a vegetarian with a ponytail, and Christine is the very incarnation of Lilith from Cheers, with the exception that she's a less masculine and much sweeter. They both dress in black and live in a beautiful mansion on Mapleton Hill, and they have the most eclectic assortment of interesting friends. They're pretty awesome.

We slept off the turkey and wine, and today Gerard worked on homework and I spent most of the day just roaming around Boulder on my bike. It was another stupendous, sunny, 70 degree day with ten percent humidity. Since Boulder is completely surrounded by Open Space (that's park land in Colorado), you can bike nice, paved trails west all the way up the canyon and into he mountains, or east all the way out onto the grasslands. Or you could just mill around downtown among the coffee shops, bookstores, art/craft stores and high end clothing stores. The thing is you never have to bike on a road. The trail system here is amazing.

Naturally during all of my roving I took a few moments to ponder all that I have to be thankful for: Gerard, my mother, my friends, my job, my city, my life. I'm not rich but I want for nothing. I don't have my cabin (yet) but I can't complain. Sometimes it makes me feel guilty. Why should I have a great career and have the privilege of living in a city as beautiful and bike friendly and progressive as Boulder? Why should I have so much when so many suffer? I'm not complaining, mind you. Just thinking.

I read in the news today that Boulder is about to get one of the very first carbon neutral neighborhoods in the US. How cool is that? But at a cost of just under a million bucks per house, I won't be moving in anytime soon.

Tonight I was craving turkey and dressing and all the fixins, so I went down to Whole Foods and bought the whole spread already prepared. Gerard and I had a second, quieter Thanksgiving, and now he's passed out on the sofa. I'm sipping eggnog. And blogging.

Tomorrow we head to Rocky Mountain National Park with a friend for some snowshoeing. Think about that. It's Thanksgiving weekend, and on a whim I can go snowshoeing in Rocky Mountain National Park for the day and be back in time for dinner. I remember a time when mountains and snow were an exotic fantasy, just something on PBS. Now they are my world.

I do have a lot to be thankful for, so thank you. Thank you thank you thank you!

Eggnog

It just occurred to me that I haven't really been anywhere in awhile. A quick daytime jaunt into Rocky Mountain National Park in September was the only thing I've done this fall besides my day shoeing horses.

This weekend is filling up with local stuff. The farmer's market ended a couple of weeks ago, but there's a special Thanksgiving market this Saturday. There will be one more before Christmas, but these are just shadows of the market during its peak in summer. There will be winter squash, maybe some apples, lots of crafts and jellies. Definitely worth going, but we've had several feet of snow already this fall so one can't really expect to see the produce section of Whole Foods at this thing.

Anyway, this week is First Bite Boulder. Lots of cities do something similar under different names, but the idea is the same: restaurants participate in offering multi-course meals for a set price that all participating restaurants honor. In Boulder, it's a three course meal for $26 per person. Most of Boulder's top restaurants are participating and we've got reservations with some friends this weekend after the big lighting ceremony downtown.

Wow, the eggnog is starting to kick in. I put in a bit more rum than I intended. G'night!

Holiday Ramp Up

I've got four Christmas trees. They're plastic, but they are incredibly realistic. They stay out year round, which in the mountains of Colorado isn't weird since most of the trees outside my window look just like them. Only bigger. They aren't lit up year 'round. I wait for the snowy season to kick in, and then I light them every night until spring with white lights. They just remind me of winter and how much I love the snow. I will decorate them, but not until after Thanksgiving.

They're on now, and I'm sipping the first eggnog of the season. There's this local dairy that makes the best eggnog in the world, and I'm not just being biased here because they're local. Whole Foods can't keep it stocked and everyone raves about it. It comes in real glass bottles that you have to leave a deposit on and everything. I usually add a little spiced rum which makes it the pinnacle of perfection as far as eggnog goes.

I submitted my final projects tonight and all I have to do now is wait for the final grades to roll in. I'm also registered for spring quarter and I got the classes I needed.

Work has been a little slow lately. It always gets this way around the holidays. People start traveling and no one's really interested in starting big new projects until after the new year.

Most of the weekend snow has melted, though there's still quite a lot on the north faces and other areas that don't get sun all day long. It has really been a gorgeous week.

Next week is Thanksgiving. We're going to have dinner with our friends Christine and Mark (the pickle party hosts) and a lot of other people. It's becoming our annual tradition and we both look forward to it. I'm especially looking forward to four days off - no school, no work, just good 'ol down time.

This Saturday is Boulder's Switch on the Holidays, where Santa throws the switch and Pearl Street and the courthouse light up, as well as the giant star on Flagstaff Mountain overlooking the city. Apparently the city has put up more lights this year than ever before, and they're all the super efficient LED lights. We'll have to check that out.

We still don't have a cat.

That's all I got tonight.

Last Weekend of Summer

Today's farmer's market was the last for the summer of '09. Tuesday is the equinox, the first day of fall. I can't believe another summer has slipped away. It's always sad to say goodbye to summer.

Of course there's still a whole lot of good stuff to be had at the market, and autumn really is my favorite time of year. More pumpkins are starting to fill the booths, as well as winter squashes and an abundance of potatoes, onions, garlic and other fall crops. The Garlic Queen has returned this year. She's a wonderful, friendly woman who sells nothing but garlic. Dozens of varieties fill her booth for every use from cooking and canning to eating raw, to varieties that will store all the way through spring. Her garlic now fills a nook in my storage pantry. New to the market this year, one farm started braiding their onions into traditional hanging ornaments for winter storage. They look beautiful hanging in the kitchen, and whenever you need onion you just cut one off the braid. They should last through the depths of winter. Pears are also in season, and they are second only to the pumpkin as being a symbolic fruit of autumn and the start of the holiday season. They are always a very welcome but short lived autumn treat. And of course there's also a little bite in the morning air now, and people are starting to wear light sweaters and long sleeves in the early morning hours. Even the aspens have started to slip into their golden autumn wardrobe, and mountainsides are starting to shimmer. Autumn is knocking on the door.

This morning I ate the first fresh apple I've had since last fall. Lordy it was a feast for the senses. Never in my life have I enjoyed an apple so much. They're just coming fully into season, and when I saw those crates full of them my mouth started watering. I selected an organic Gala with a full round body and no blemishes. It was a bright, sunny morning but the apples were still cold from last night. That first bite - oh my - I wish I could put it into words. It was so crisp, so sweet and juicy and chilled. It was nothing like those flavorless cardboard apples from the grocery store. It just tasted so - appley. It may sound odd if you haven't experienced it, but it gave me a slight buzz. I savored every incredible bite, then sat there stretched out in the cool grass looking at the sky for a long time being deeply grateful for moments like this.

Ready for Winter

This weekend was the last farmer's market of the season. Actually they're doing another day right before Thanksgiving and again right before Christmas, but the official market is over and only the vendors with crafts, meat and other things that don't require summer weather will be selling. So officially, it's over. I've been stocking up over the last few weeks. Longer if you count all the canning. I think I've got enough to get the two of us through the winter, plus feed the family at Christmas and accommodate any other occasional dinner guests along the way.

This weekend my favorite farm, Jay Hill Farm, sold me a 15 pound Cinderella pumpkin. What a beauty. It yielded at least 8 pies worth of rich pumpkin puree, most of which I froze for later. I put up a couple dozen jars of whole tomatoes, apple butter and pumpkin butter which, I must say, is probably the tastiest confection ever to dance on my taste buds. After stocking those things away along with a few other items, I stepped back for a quick inventory. In the sweets department we have crab apple jelly, peach butter, apple butter and pumpkin butter. In the freezer there are enough peaches, apple slices and pumpkin puree to make a dozen pies. In the realm of tomatoes we have whole tomatoes, pasta sauce, ketchup and salsa. In the pickled category we have dills and pickled hot peppers. I've also got at least a year's worth of honey and popcorn, and enough horseradish to get through to next summer. I've also got a stockpile of onions, potatoes, raw cheese still in the rind and winter squash, plus a freezer full of chickens, elk and bison. I'll have access to fresh eggs, milk and meat all winter long. I think I have enough sugar left to last two years, including next year's canning. (If I wanted Colorado sugar I had to buy it in a 50 pound bag!) And every bit of everything listed above, with the exception of a few spices, was grown in Colorado, most of it near Boulder.

I also made the first pumpkin pie of the season, pictured above, and found time to go to a "Dia de los Muertos Halloween After Party" at a fabulous house in Denver Saturday night. It was perfect. Laid back, casual, catered. Lots of really nice people and great conversation. They even had a Dia de los Muertos shrine set up where people could place photos of their deceased loved ones, make an offering and say a prayer. Other than Gerard I didn't see any hispanic genes in the place.

Now that the "harvest" is in, the garden is slumbering and our Indian Summer is going to be blown away by tomorrow's snow, I'm looking forward to kicking back and enjoying the holidays. Let the parties begin!