becky haycox

Author: hamblog

  • I miss me

    I was digging into my archives to find this vintage diatribe about couches (https://beckyhaycox.com/?p=323) to share with a friend who was befuddled by the amount of ugly couches he encounters in his new career as a house inspector.

    Then, while I was on the blog, I started poking around and reading other posts here and there.

    I was struck by how enjoyable (dare I say “breezy?”) my writing is, and had vague memories on how much fun it was to write, and had just a whole lot of delighted and befuddled feelings about these not-so-very-long-ago memories.

    One of the things that stood out to me the most was how positive I sounded, even during the times I know for a fact were neither breezy nor positive overall.

    Of course, I’m coming out of a real shithole of a quarantine year-plus, where no one could, nor was really allowed to, feel good or feel/express pure positivity.

    Well, and then walking it back farther to 2016, and that election, and the start of feeling constant and relentless contempt for many fellow humans whom I didn’t/don’t understand, and whom I judge very hard.. that very negative judgy space (now sadly almost a norm) wasn’t a regular practice for me, except for some dark gothy young-Becky days.

    It will take time for me for me to again feel good all the way down to my very soul. And even longer to find some equilibrium over what it means to exist as an American and as a woman and as a worker and all that.

    I just got back from my very first vacation since 2019 and got to see the family that I love the most and two of my oldest friends, and I got to have laughs and tears and parties and touch and relaxation and all the things that I have been feeling parched for and doubt about. And it felt about as blissful as you might imagine it would feel, but it doesn’t feel normal yet. And default Becky isn’t going to be pure positive perky Becky for a bit.

    But reading the words of slightly-less-jaded Becky and all of the things going on in her life and all of the goodness she had, makes me feel the desire to go back to those feelings, more than I have felt in a long time.

    This “gift of quarantine”, as I like to say so sarcastically, has afforded an abundance of time in which I could crawl into my own head and overthink everything, every fucking hour of the day. But the relentless angst and stress piled upon me for 400 days did make me think about what I need to change for the future, and what I’d like from life. So it’s all coming together and giving me yearning, perspective, desires, and maybe even a tiny little brave glimmering flicker of hope.

  • “Things are about to get real weird”

    A video I made about our Year of Covid

    Based on a true story

    No script

    WATCH FULL VIDEO (10 MIN):

    WATCH THE TRAILER (53 SEC):

    Where it has shown:
    As part of NAMBA ARTS: IN PERFORMANCE LIVE
    March 28, 2021 | 7pm Pacific
    nambaarts.com

  • The Quarantine Times, Last Issue of 2020

    It is December 31, 2020. Marking this “year end” is arbitrary and very little is changing as we tear off yet another calendar page. May I remind future readers that we are still in COVID times out here in just-about-to-be 2021 and very little is under control.

    Yes, yes, 2020 will be forever tagged as the dumpster fire and as the start of the many archetypal icons and memes, such as banana bread, toilet paper shortages, the politicization of the wearing of face masks, a new, videoconference-centric life, etc.

    However, why NOT look back on this arduous, bizarre, yet curiously transformative last 12 months? Me, I got a LOT OF SHIT DONE and I’m proud of it.

    I covered January-September 2020 in a blog post of mostly words here. I’ll stick some photos and captions in this one.

    But first: yes, I am proud of being productive this year. I had a lot of forward motion punctuated by squealing emergency stops. Isolation, uncertainty, and looming depression would join forces to make me feel like I wasn’t going to see another day. Yet, here was another day, and another, and another. And so I trudged on, cajoling and tricking myself out of bed, into the shower, out of the house, up to my loft to work, onto the phone (“help me!”) until I could right myself and trudge on, but a little less wobbly-like.

    I AM LUCKY. Though I am physically by myself, I am not alone. I am lucky to have the solid base on which to feel all these feelings. I am employed. I have been working hard on mental and spiritual transformation, so I have tools to cope. I am not responsible for others’ lives or livelihoods. I have loving and understanding friends and family. I am lucky, and know it.

    I salute everyone, whether you got jack shit done, or accomplished everything. This is a really hard and humbling time and I have been paying attention to all the lessons being taught to me. I have never appreciated who I am and what I have more than in this moment.

    These photos are mostly of organizational projects, since spiritual/mental transformation is a little harder to photograph. And although I went outside a fair amount and sometimes looked cute, selfies and landscape photography have not been priorities.

    January: I don’t remember January.

    My cousin died in February. I miss her.

    My brother (in California for our cousin’s memorial) stayed with me a few days at the end of February. He escaped just a few days ahead of lock down. He was my last houseguest, and a good one – he helped me get a lot of projects knocked out, including repainting my kitchen. I have had a lot of time to admire this kitchen.

    The spouse of a friend died and I attended my first online funeral in March. March 22 was also the last time I got to hang out with my friend C, who died suddenly in May. Her existence had an unfathomable impact on my life, as well as on countless others’.

    About April was the time I realized that I needed to step up self-care – not in a spa treatment way, but more in a “get a therapist” way and other mind/brain improvement ways.

    I also realized my incredible need to stay busy. I hate that I have used the “gift of time” while describing my lockdown to others, but the fact that I had almost limitless hours with literally no place to go spurred me into going deep. Honestly, I will not have time like this till after retirement, and I’m super glad every effing thing in my home now has an effing place. And that I unloaded a thrift store’s worth of crap into thrift stores. (I’m realizing these photos aren’t very remarkable, especially when they’re lacking before-and-after comparisons, but OMG so many many hour hours hours of work are represented here)

    Clothes closet reorg. Every other closet got the treatment, too.
    Impossible to photograph, this attic space (which I refer to affectionately as the “Murder Closet”) was a nightmare, many-stepped task. It doesn’t look pretty here, but trust me, it is the prettiest thing in my house.
    Just looking at that photo bin makes me exhausted all over again. I reckon I got rid of about 2/3rds of my paper history. I also gave away and sold so much childhood and otherwise memorabilia. When time is a commodity without value, eBay is worth doing. With what I made, I was able to redo my bathroom – that kind of worthwhile.
    Here’s the bathroom I had redone. I didn’t have enough to redo the floors or the shower stall, but it’s better than the horror it was previously. It’s also hard to find humans willing to take on dinky projects like mine these days. I did also manage to find a handyman to replace my outdoor utility closet doors, which sounds so boring but is a major achievement.
    I digitized many photo prints and slides. Here is baby Becky at UC Berkeley, sophomore year! I also had digitized many family home movies, which was my Christmas gift to family. I am burnt out on photos but digitizing the rest of that mess is an undone project as of yet.
    So much memorabilia had I! I am happy I kept a lot of it. It’s been fun sharing (and occasionally shaming) loved ones with what I have found.
    I traded things for things. I had a giant 25-lb sack of flour, pounds of which were bartered for produce from peoples’ trees. I also traded old shelving for a blender and a VCR, a TV for a hand mixer, and so much more.
    Back in the days when I was more willing to sit in on a non-work video conference.
    SO MUCH TIME ON VIDEO CONFERENCES
    Without a human or animal in my house, my plants became my children. I became a much better gardener this year. I also became a better cook and baker.
    And I kept things pretty tidy all year, which is has been easier than it ever was before, due to working from home and not having to jam chores in on the weekends, and also from not wearing clothes or having events or visits or trips competing with my time (time, which is worthless.)
    Thank god for my beautiful home.
    I maximized the shit out of every available square foot of my home, in a desperate attempt to curb cabin fever. My previously underutilized balcony got some furniture, and my loft (pictured) became my office and yoga studio. To have “somewhere else” to go for my workday (but with the always-available option to work from bed when needed) was critical. And the yoga. Holy wow. My studio’s virtual classes are a huge factor in keeping me tethered to sanity, and I do not say this lightly. This is also the venue from which I’ve participated in Zoom dance parties, one of my favorite new-reality activities.
    I’ve been out of the County (or nearby) three times since February: once for a driving day trip, and twice for a few days away. It’s almost not worth going, because the return to the samey-ness is painful. Almost, but not quite. Even though I’m alone, to be alone somewhere else is nice and even nicer to see old friends at a social distance. Worth the slightly elevated risk level.
    And home is good, too. I live in a coastal city with a perfect climate. I will appreciate that every day forever.

    Happy new year, whatever that means.

  • Merry Christmas, Haycox/Newman/Monk Family – 2020

    Hello, family members,

    In this memorable year, I kept sane by keeping busy, and I did a lot of organizing. I partially tackled the very large photo and video (and one audio tape) archive of family memories that worked its way into my storage space after I readied the Neptune house for sale.

    Here is my gift to you — I had a lot of pertinent videos and slides digitized professionally (and some less important slides I digitized myself) and am sharing them with you, here. I also digitized an audio tape, but badly.

    The links to YouTube videos are below, as well as links to photo scans on Google Drive. Note: the videos are loaded onto YouTube as “unlisted” links, which means only people with the links can view the videos (as opposed to the general public). The home movies were digitized from the compilations edited by Marge, Pat and Jack Cameron that we had on video already.

    If you’d like the actual digital media files, let me know. There are a couple dozen more videotapes that may be of historical interest for the family, so I will try to digitize them myself. The same applies to the large amount of photos I have in my possession. I also welcome any help, if anyone wants to get involved with the fun fun world of digitizing!

    Please share the link to this page with your kids, grandkids, or anyone else that may want to see these sometimes-amazing, sometimes-boring videos! This is the link to this page: https://beckyhaycox.com/?p=6481

    Enjoy! I love you, Becky

    PHOTOS

    Here is a link to slide scans. There are family photos ranging from the 50s to the 90s. Some are organized, some not. Have at them! Note: The “Art Haycox Archives” folders are scans of photos and memorabilia that Lisa very kindly supplied to me when I was asked to speak at Art Haycox school a few years ago. Some great stuff in there!
    Link: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B1hIi3tq1S3rV0pjVkN4a0dQaWM?usp=sharing

    AUDIO

    Here is a link to a digital audio capture of a tape that Peter made for Paul in 1978.
    https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VEvkQGNjvveNZ_dVwjODo-fQAIH9V_WO/view?usp=sharing
    Side one features a lot of Peter, dad Jim, and a 14-year-old Becky. The analog tape sounds a lot better than the digital capture. If anyone wants the tape to try for a better capture, let me know.

    VIDEOS

    You can view all of them on YouTube in a playlist, or watch them individually, below. Playlist link: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4BV4G9mY3U4FaZ-q4vFp3XuNPIITn2Wm

    VIDEO: The Way We Were – 1927-1970 – Haycox-Newman-Cawelti-Bell Movies

    The Ranching Twenties 1927-28; Andy & Minnie Cawelti’s Golden Anniversary – 1947, Somis, CA; Strictly Family, 1947 on, California; 1956 – California, Mostly; Montana Vacations, 1961-1964, USA; Camarillo Ranch, 1966; A New Decade 1970 California

    VIDEO: Haycox Family 1949-1964

    Ann, 1949-1952; Peter, 1953-1955; Paul, 1953-1956*; Hansel & Gretel, 1956; Matthew, 1957; The Twist, 1959-1961; Sleigh Ride, 1959; Cape 1960; The Big Apple, 1960; Becky, 1964-65 and Some Earlier Years (pre-Becky)

    VIDEO: Lisa and the Early Years – 1947 onward

    Starring: Lisa
    With Dora, Jim, Marge, Reg’s Oldsmobile, Grandpa, Two Grandmothers, Art Haycox, Reg, Andy, Grandma Cawelti, Sami Cameron, Nancy Riesenbeck, Pat “Monk”, Reg at Stanford Village, Christmas – Pat & Lon Monk, Georgie Pauldin, Lizann, Morro Bay

    VIDEO: Ann’s Magic Kingdom 1958

    Trip to Disneyland – Southern California
    Starring Ann Haycox With Art “Pappy” Haycox, Ann “Gram” Haycox, Dora, Sally, Nora, two girlfriends
    Featuring Archie and Carla

    BONUS VIDEO: “Feet” by Becky Haycox, 1984

    Project for UC Berkeley media class
    Starring Lisa Blout, Paul Haycox, Marge Haycox, John Baily, Dora Newman, Becky Haycox

  • Doing the Limbo, all year long

    It is November 4, 2020 in the afternoon as I write this. I suppose it is a historic time within a historic time (within another one? Matrosyka style) as we all sit, waiting to see what manner and variety and weight of shoes are gonna fucking drop during this 2020 presidential race. This period of time in limbo ultimately will be a blip on my and all the collective histories of those un/fortunate to be aliiiiive during this times.

    As everything else in this horrific year, there is no easy resolution and conclusion and I suspect things are going to get uglier before we can carve out the teeniest, dirtiest, hardest-won, most flickering bit of hope for us, for this country. I hope I can come back to this space and report that things have gotten a little less sucky.

    It’s hard to describe how hard this has been, under the rule of the current leader, to These COVID Times, to this election.

    I don’t know why I’m writing this nonsensical post. I want to try to remember this and do what I can not to come back here.

  • Chicken Vindaloo

    Becky’s notes: Use an Instant Pot or slow cooker for best results. If using a pan on the stove, consider the steps (mentioned below) of blending all ingredients (except chicken) and marinating the chicken for several hours before cooking.

    This recipe was developed from one that involved blending all ingredients except the chicken, and marinating the chicken beforehand. I found that those steps were not needed; as long as the chicken pieces are small enough and the ingredients are slow-cooked long enough, it reduces to a pretty smooth sauce, and the chicken is flavorful throughout.

    You can play fast and loose with ingredients — substitute, add more or less.

    Delicious served with Cucumber-Yogurt Recipe.

    Ingredients

    • 1 tablespoon oil – more as needed
    • 1 large white onion, chopped
    • 5 cloves garlic, minced (approx 2 tbsp)
    • 2 tbsp ginger, minced
    • 1 pound boneless skinless chicken thighs (I used breast meat, which worked fine), cut into pieces
    • 2 c diced tomatoes (heirlooms are great in this recipe)
    • 1/2 c white vinegar
    • 1 teaspoon salt
    • 1 tsp garam masala (or tandoori masala, which is available at Ralph’s)
    • 1 tsp smoked paprika (I also found this at Ralph’s)
    • 1/2 – 2 tsp cayenne pepper, red pepper flakes or red hot sauce – this is where you determine the spiciness level (I used very little and the whole thing was delicious)
    • 1/2 tsp ground coriander (I didn’t have any so I just used a full tsp of cumin)
    • 1/2 tsp ground cumin (or a full tsp if you don’t have coriander)
    • 1/4 c water (only if you use Instant Pot)
    • 1/2 tsp turmeric
    • Jasmine rice, 4 servings, prepared separately
    • Naan (if you really want to carb out)

    Slow Cooker Directions

    1. Saute onion, garlic, ginger and oil for 3-4 minutes. Use a pan or the Instant Pot on Saute.
    2. Add chicken (and more oil if needed); saute until chicken is no longer pink on outside. If using a slow cooker, transfer all ingredients to the cooker now.
    3. Add tomatoes and vinegar, stir. Add spices and stir again. Warning: turmeric stains so beware when splashing sauce or using wood/bamboo utensils.
    4. Instant Pot: Add water if needed so that ingredients don’t stick and burn. Pressure cook on high for 5 minutes, then allow to release for 10 minutes. Stir. Then hit the slow cook function and let cook for 2-3 hours.
    5. Slow cooker: slow cook for 4-6 hours, up to 8 hours.
    6. If the sauce is too watery, remove chicken and cook down uncovered and even use a bit of flour to thicken it up. Then add the chicken back.
    7. Prepare your jasmine rice about 20 minutes before serving.
    8. Warm up some naan and soak up that delicious sauce.

  • Isolation is In for 2020 – Words

    It’s day XXX,XXX,XXX of isolating myself during what has developed into a world-wide pandemic, but you already knew that, you know, about the pandemic. I started writing a post on the third week after the “shelter in place” was announced by my County, but ran out of attention span and steam, something that is a hallmark of these difficult, unprecedented, uncertain times. (Also a hallmark: making fun of how companies and speechwriters and advertisers use “difficult, unprecedented, uncertain times”)

    February 2020

    A whole lot was going on for me personally and professionally. I had just gotten over being very sick at the early part of the month – a virus that took out almost everyone in the same hallway at work. One coworker and I had a stomach thing, but the rest got a weird lingering respiratory malady that of course we’re eyeing retroactively as the Coronavirus.

    This was the month that things were getting uncomfortable. Of course, we all had been hearing of the virus, and tracking the first few cases in the US. By the end of the month, we were eyeing Washington state very nervously and I remember helping my brother virtually help his girlfriend order hand sanitizer to send to her daughter.

    A couple of major shipping conferences through work had already been canceled as no one had a desire to travel, especially internationally. But it was definitely all viewed through a long-distance lens.

    End of February 2020

    Thinking back to that first weekend, before the (first?) “stay in place” order was issued to our state, I was full of vim and vigor and good humor. It didn’t seem real nor did it seem terribly serious. “Social distancing” suddenly was the term we all use(d), and the novelty of starting to conduct virtual meetings and events had not worn off, especially as we were thinking that this was going to get fixed in the next couple-few weeks.

    My brother was visiting for a few days. We met in Northern California for a relative’s funeral then came down here to hang out and for me to use him as a handyman and kitchen-painter. We were here on the 29th and that’s the day that shit started feeling very real. He helped his girlfriend buy price-gouged hand sanitizer online and have it delivered to her daughter in Washington state, the area of high infection everyone was watching.

    My brother opted to drive cross country to be with his new love (not to mention my sisters) on the east coast. It felt to all like a desperate flight and race against time and there was much relief when he settled in.

    March 2020

    On Facebook, nervously watched a friend, on a business trip to Barcelona, trying to get home before travel bans were issued. Social media – Facebook appears to be the place for adults to congregate, and social media in general seems to be the place people get their news. You can hear everyone devolving a few clicks during this time. My Facebook experience, already an annoyingly repetitive political echo chamber, becomes a hot mess of memes, shared disinformation, preachyness. Exhausting. A majority of what I see on TikTok (in compilation videos on other social media) is so stupid, I want to die. Yet I can’t look away. I quietly turn off my phone’s daily usage report. My life goes online. If I’m not on the computer, I’m on my phone or iPad. I’m not even sorry. This is shock I’m trying to get over.

    At work, I idly ask the IT what it would take to get me set up at home in the unlikely possibility that we’d be asked to work from home. 48 hour laters, we’re told to work from home. Just for a little stretch of time! All the irony emojis here.

    Third Saturday (3/13/2020)

    That Friday, I had put out on Facebook that I would love to Facetime with anyone who wanted to. This was moments before Zoom rocketed forward to fill a need and everyone in the universe discovered video conferencing.

    To my surprise, I had hour-plus FaceTime sessions with seven people over that weekend, and many more put in the queue. To a few, it was the first time having a video call. It was great. Connecting with people and having all the time in the world to chat and voice our fears was kind of monumental.

    Thus begins the online life. Virtual Becky.

    Since Then

    It is now September 25. No end to going back to Real Becky in sight. Enough time has passed that I can look upon the pandemic’s early days with real nostalgia. The novelty of it all, the gifts of time, of sleep, of having the energy to seek out loved ones for new and novel ways to talk, to play, to connect. The baking! Seriously, banana and sourdough breads were like their own virus.

    The shortages! A friend texted me in early April, asking if I wanted her to buy flour at Costco — she had spied some and it was in short supply. I said yes, not realizing the bag was a 25-pounder. It became a currency — I wheeled it on a dolly to peoples’ homes. A barter/trade page for my area was set up and I exchanged:

    • a TV for a hand mixer
    • old industrial shelves for a VCR (to digitize the family tapes)
    • more old shelves for a blender
    • flour for yeast
    • flour for avocados
    • garment rack for peaches
    • a small food processors and a bunch of shirts for nothing on my end

    The toilet paper shortage was puzzling and disturbingly real. Now it’s a common sight to see blank, empty shelves among fully stocked US of A shelves. And I joined the ranks of bidet owners.

    I celebrated my birthday, attended two online funerals, had sexy Zoom time with a friend. I found a therapist, got some “just in case” therapeutic medications. I had several highly successful “work and chat sessions” with friends from all over, where we organized closets, assembled furniture, unpacked old boxes, sorted photos, and caught up.

    I am grateful my brother kindly painted my kitchen way back in Feb., little did I know how much I’d use that fucking kitchen. EVERY SINGLE MEAL EVERY SINGLE DAY.

    I am still employed, thank god. My employers have also been very sensitive to the stress and difficulty of maintaining this insane new life. They seem to be continually pleasantly surprised that we are as productive as we are. Surprises me as well, as my ability to concentrate is intermittent and I’m operating at a capacity that often is lower than I’d like. I’m choking up typing this, as I feel very aware (as I hear of yet more loved ones being laid off, fired, facing a very bad future) that I am so fucking lucky.

    Work Pros: being able to do chores anytime I want instead of having to pack everything into the weekend or nighttime when I’m burned out; not feeling burnt out by work; only having to get presentable from the waist up; working on creative work projects uninterrupted and on my own time; feeling closer to some coworkers as a result of “these times”; having a lovely home to enjoy whilst working.

    Work Cons: not having any contact with most coworkers; missing the small talk and little conversations that make the day pass; missing shopping at lunch hour with Julie; lacking the kinds of brainstorming and deep collaboration that only face-to-face interactions can bring; not seeing the ships and harbormasters and harbor; wondering if I died, how long would it be before anyone knew (to be fair, that’s more of a general con); if I got really sick, would I only have blank-faced strangers provide care and comfort? (same); not work burnout, but life burnout (same).

    At times feel like being solo and pet-less in captivity is the hardest. Other times, I feel that not being in this with others (particularly school age children!!), that I’m the lucky one.

    Social media continues to degrade. Politicizing the use of masks was the summer topic, but now the upcoming election is popping whatever existing brain cells of, well, everyone.

    And I have to ignore news real-time because I have discovered that I have become a different person, chemically. Spiraling anxiety is now a thing for me and I have to be very, very careful about what I read or discuss. Insomnia is the norm and the aforementioned periods of inability to concentrate is a real malady. Depression isn’t really a factor, but grief and agoraphobia rear their heads on the reg. I am a different person.

    I try to have regularly scheduled face-to-masked-faces with loved ones, but not too many. By the end of the work week I feel isolated and alienated from the world. My city and neighborhood feels dangerous and I use that an excuse to just let another day go by without physical self-care.

    I have embraced internal self-care in terms of the spiritual program I follow and it is the thing that keeps me alive. It also makes me feel seen and heard, which is a hard feeling to acquire these days.

    I find that (except when anxiety barges in and Changes the Schedule) that it’s generally a day-by-day reset. That I can’t say that “things are better” or “life is impossibly hard”. It’s more like “today feels ok” or “I want to fucking scream right this second”. Waking up anew in this Groundhog-Day-in-the-Twilight Zone will bring a completely new mood.

    You can hear it when out in public or talking on the phone when our So-Cal jovial selves can’t help but ask “how ARE you?” The response is something like “weelllllll, YOU know…” or “things are incredibly rough” or “it’s pretty okay” and everyone nods knowingly. In a way I’ve never felt so honest and unguarded in my human interactions, even with strangers. Fuck your happy face persona! I can’t see it anyway, under that mask.

    I have a weekly in-person art class that is the jewel of my week. We talk about art and music and theater and it feels normal. Occasionally I have to ask people to pull up their masks and sometimes the previous class attendees dawdle so there are too many people for comfort. But I have learned that I just need to take care of myself, and leaving is always an option. Something that is in the front of my brain as I contemplate a wedding I’m going to attend in two weeks.

    I participated in a couple virtual improv shows. I don’t think they went well and I blamed them on the shaky improv itself. But maybe it’s impossible to fuse isolated individual and the ultimate collaborative art form. I hope that’s not the case.

    I have no idea where this desire to write came from, but I’m going with it. This poor blog is not even accessible by the public, except for people who have it included in their RSS readers (hello!) but it’s easy to write in and — like everything else — it’s just for me at this point. Now that I’ve organized my paper clutter, I have been writing letters and postcards, much to the pleasure/irritation/puzzlement of loved ones.

    The amount of home projects I have completed is so surreally large that it will be a separate post.

    And that is all. Fucking 2020, man!

  • Hat trick!

    Two biggest fears, so big as to qualify for phobias:

    • Dentist
    • Earthquake

    And on the list of things that make me deeply uneasy:

    • Large crowds
    • Guns
    • Supporters of the current president
    • Things that interrupt my sleep

    This week there was a shooting less then a block from where I work. It’s posited that reporting of the tragedy (pregnant mother and small daughter, the latter in a coma) to law enforcement was delayed because of all the illegal fireworks pretty much going off all night every night since June.

    After years of steady improvement, last week I had one of the worst, most sobby, most painful dentist appointments. This appointment addressed an old filling in a tooth, the drilling of same, and the installation of a temporary crown. If it took me two pills to even get in the door, I can’t even imagine what the dentist and staff had to take to erase the memories of that fun time.

    Then this week, the crown broke off and it was agreed by self and the person answering the phone for my vacationing dentist that the situation didn’t warrant emergency intervention unless it really starts hurting. So during this first week of non-foggy weather, during the week I planned to eat much barbecue, I became the ol’ biddie, gently gumming her food, head tilted, with a look of unattractive concentration on her face.

    Yesterday, while nervously contemplating the Fourth of July crowds that I would have to brave while meeting friends for soft, non-barbecue invalid food, a large Independence Day earthquake rolled long and hard, the hardest I’ve felt in years. Fun, vertigo-inducing stuff! All bets off. I took to my bed, until I finally roused myself to get over to a friend’s boat for more soft food and some fireworks (legal this time).

    The first slip I passed was inhabited by a large yacht and festooned from aft to stern with flags and banners professing love and support for the current president.

    After a perfectly nice time with my friends (thank heavens) and successful slow chewing of actual barbecued items, I got home, took to my bed for the night, and was kept up a large portion of the night by the illegal fireworks in my annoying neighborhood.

  • April’s Horoscope for Taurus, from an AI-generated astrologist

    Taurus:

    *To avoid the possible negative consequences of mingling your hand with your eyes, be sure to turn your head. In addition, do not let your eyes wander off the focus of the new moon, as your hand might get stuck between a cloth, or your hand might slip out of your hand while you’re making a deep motion. The moon’s on its back, and the figure of the moon’s shadow sag warmly on your hand. If you rarely hear a sound, you might not know the moon will be there for too long, so line up your bowels with the moon as you gently guide your fingers along the rock walls, pulling at the crescent moonward with your left hand. When you break out, you will be leaving the moon for a lot longer, covering the night sky with a forest of shadows.

  • Day 9: Wrap Up and Hot Wash

    Here are the notes I am taking while Molly and I are on a road trip through Idaho (briefly), Wyoming, and Montana, October 2018.

    Part 1 is here | Part 2 is here  | Part 3 is here | Part 4 is here | Part 5 is here | Part 6 is here | Part 7 is here | Part 8 is here

    OCTOBER 14, 2018

    COLUMBIA FALLS — KALISPELL — SALT LAKE CITY — BURBANK — OXNARD

    Yeah so I’m tying this bit from Salt Lake City Airport just as it’s been announced that my flight is late, putting me in grave danger of missing my train to Oxnard, which is going to make it extra interesting trying to get to Oxnard Airport to get my car out of hock; hence it is established that I’m in a sad, shit, end of vacation mood. I just said goodbye to Molly as she left for her flight to San Francisco. I guess it’s a good thing that it was hard to say goodbye. It’s been a perfect trip. The Mom Van was a gas guzzler and we’ve spend more money than we wanted to on this trip … and that’s about it. Oh wait, how could I forget my sinuses. Molly might add my snoring as being a less-than-awesome feature of the trip.

    Before last night’s rain, you could barely tell the original color of Mom Van — we did some dirty drivin!

    Before I do the hot-wash, as the corporate people say, here are the is the menu from last night’s feed:

    And a tableaux from the large, very busy, and sublimely choreographed Syke’s, where I ate another insane meal, this time involving Andouille sausage AND bacon.

    I appreciate Montana and the ready availability of large, insane meals, and the complete lack of judgment in the consuming of same. Second pork chop? Sure, hon! Here’s two more!

    Mom Van gave us a scare as there was no Enterprise office at the Glacier Airport in Kalispell, but we found a drop-off area, thank heavens. Because the order has not been processed yet, I do not know how many miles we put in, but we put in a LOT.

    Update: I just called Enterprise (on 10/24) and they told me we put 553 miles on the car. However, with very generalized itinerary (and not taking into account all the driving we did within the parks), Mapquest* is saying more like 1300 miles.

    *I know, Mapquest, right? But I couldn’t find a routeplanner on Google that was that easy!

    Oh! And: we got navigated to the wrong airport at first, because there are TWO airports (one international) in Kalispell, MT, population 22,000. Just want to mention that I’m now typing this from home, after nearly 12 hours of travel, 3 of which was trying to get home from Burbank Airport. Oxnard is the 19th most populous city in California and there is no international airport in its county. BUT I’LL STOP THERE.

    Now: hot-wash. What makes Molly and self such good traveling partners? There are a lot of things. We have very similar love for beautiful nature, road trips, and Americana; we are both pretty flexible and “make the best of it”; she likes to plan and I like to go along with the plan (and we both like the fact there’s a plan); we both know visitor centers, plaques and displays, and weird little museums often make for the highlights of a trip; we both are pretty organized and like systems (eg, we trade off driving/navigating, we can maneuver around each other well in small spaces); and we have 19 years of knowing each other. I know Molly doesn’t chew gum but likes Huevos Rancheros! Molly knows I like pie and to take my shower in the AM!

    A trip like this is a LOT of togetherness, almost 100% of the time. We’ve learned to chill in companionable silence on the road and in restaurants and to grab alone time here and there. Sharing a room at night is very hard at times, with snoring, restlessness, different sleep patterns, etc. but we just kind of roll with it. We’re on vacation, after all!

    And coffee. This is the must-have. Two collapsible drip coffee filter holders, high quality coffee, travel mugs. A similar setup got us through our 2010 road trip; we refined it by adding this somewhat more portable hot water kettle, and adding a second drip system, for fair and efficient caffeine distribution.

    Classy brass filter holder on left, less pretty but awesome in its own way silicone holder on right, “Yosemite Dos Sierra” coffee from Peet’s!

    After lugging my very, very heavy luggage home, I’m reflecting on what could have been left behind. The laptop was a pain in the ass, but I’m glad I would write down my experiences right away (and we might have needed it for some real computing at some point). Snow clothes, heavy winter gear — hard to lug but I would’ve been sunk without it if the weather was even a smidge worse.

    Mistakes were made:

    • OMG we screwed up with audio stuff! The Mom Van didn’t have bluetooth or modern auxillary cable hookup capability. Hence, out of desperation, the non-driver for the day would play whatever downloaded music she happened to have on her iPhone FROM her iPhone. Treble heavy and not great. And podcasts were out of the question, as the poor audio made them impossible to hear. All I needed to do was to tuck my tiny but powerful bluetooth speaker in my luggage and we would’ve had such better quality listening on the road.
    • This is 20/20 hindsight, but I should’ve brought anything and everything to ease the pain of living in a very cold, very dry, and very allergen-heavy climate. More unguents and lotions of all kinds would’ve been happily used. I would even consider bringing some kind of portable vaporizer, and definitely a heating pad to try to ease the face and neck pain.
    • I brought a small kit with scissors, rubber bands/bag clips, extra ziplocks, garbage bags (all were used) BUT a small thing of spices, particularly salt, were missed. We found ourselves a couple times in a kitchenette eating oh so bland fare. Wine and bottle opener would’ve been helpful too.
    • Photos/videos. It’d’ve been fun to have used a GoPro (something on my wish list), and  a portable flexible tripod. It’s funny; my photos were better in 2010 as I brought a real camera. iPhones (now) are fine but I don’t know, I was really struck at how eh the photos made me feel. I like the videos I took but there was no efficient way to get them trimmed and posted. I reckon working with a WordPress blog platform doesn’t help. I look forward to the next road trip (hopefully not 8 years hence) and newer, better technology!
    • I’m finishing up this post many days after the trip ended, because I’m suffering the effects of another mistake – timing this trip in the middle of a heavy work and work-travel schedule. M and I couldn’t have planned it for any other week this fall, if we wanted to go this year — but I went from a business/personal trip in September to a massive work event two weeks later, then this trip, then another work trip 60 hours after returning. Molly had a similar schedule. I haven’t been home, I haven’t had time to decompress, my place is a mess. But would I have delayed this trip till next year? HELL NO!!!

    Anyway. Here we are at the end. This was such a stunning trip. I loved how shot through with nostalgia this journey was, not only for the places I visited, but because of the acknowledgement of how much traveling Molly and I have done — we were full of reminiscences about our grocery-stealing bear, previous teepee adventures, our spontaneous trip to Chicago for New Year’s Eve complete withscoring tickets to see Aretha Franklin (not blogged), our adventures as co-workers (more of a mind-trip), and letting fortune be our guide.

    I love life!