'neff said

thinking long enough to have thoughts

2009-02-05T16:08:00.005-07:00

It's interesting that the only time I find myself breathing in wi-fi and willing to write, I'm drinking a chai. So here I am again. I found out that the laundromat has internet! And a great view of the snow-capped mountains outside. So my laundry's done and sitting in a pile next to me, but I think I'll stay alittle longer. To update...

A couple weeks ago I finally made the comittment to stay with this job for a year. It took practice, though. First of all, practice in busting a fire using a bow drill set (this is a requirement to become an instructor). And most importantly, practice in comittment. Some friends said I should either go out and have a kid or get a dog. A great way to learn commitment (I can't figure out how to spell this word). But kind of extreme. So I bought two plants instead. One I named Merv the fern (named after Vern who has survived the Ohio climate since my senior year in college and who my mom regularly gives updates on because I think it reminds her of me... "So, Juli, things are going pretty well here at home... Vern's not so happy. He's losing leaves left and right. I think he does better when you're around.") and another plant which for some reason doesn't compel me to name it.

So I'll be here until atleast next winter. Part of me is excited to have something planned for my future and a place to finally settle into. Another part of me is still uneasy about being away from family for another year.

So that's the update. I wish I'd write more like I used to. But I went for a run this morning and stopped at a park to swing and I looked up at the surrounding rocks and realized that I never stop to think long enough to have thoughts. And as I swung like a little kid, I looked up at the surrounding rocks and felt the familiarity of thoughts I experienced long ago. The kind of stuff I used to write about.

I live under an old volcano, atleast I think it is. The hill is shaped like a volcano and made up of black lava rock. An airport sits on top. To the left of the black volcano, blue mountains topped with snow sat in the distance. That's out where I live every other week. And to the left of those sat red hardened sand dunes, out near Snow Canyon. The view was incredible. Three different colors, three very different rocks, and me in the middle. Geese started honking in the distance and I realized that geese sound very much like tired moms calling their kids in for the evening.

I turned around and looked at the dried up Santa Clara river beside me and remembered pictures I'd seen of when it overflowed its banks and washed out a bunch of houses here years ago. Today, people know better, or atleast they think they do. Large walls line the edges of the river, stone-filled chicken wire holding together the banks. I've realized in recent years that I relate most to a river and I like to live in places where water travels through, but doesn't stay. The river sat next to me today stagnant, only a small stream moved through. I can't help but feel I'm sacrificing something by staying still... that river in me. This year I hope to find peace in the stillness and maybe a part of me I've avoided, a part that can only be found when I'm not moving.

warm chai and sunshine

2008-11-19T11:54:00.003-07:00

This past week, I received one of my favorite compliments. I was told that I am simple.

I thought back on my week of training for Second Nature and I couldn't figure out which action of mine really led to this feedback. Was it the many hours sitting in the dirt? No, we all did that. Was it the ease with which I wore lines of smoke stain in my face creases? No, we all looked alittle like raccoons from the hours sitting around smokey fires. Was it the way I stripped pounds off my pack... "I won't need that piece, I won't need another pair of socks, I can leave this coat behind..." That was just because I didn't condition myself for carrying 50 pounds on my back. So, I don't really know why I was told I am simple, but I liked it.

I carry a piece of paper around with me, a quote from one of my favorite writers Brian Andreas-

This is a blank map that lets you go as far as you want in any direction, with no questions asked, but it's no help at all if you want to know if you're going the right way.

I'm often looking for signs, confirmations, for the direction I'm headed. Sometimes, I like to assume I've found them. Happy feet, for example. Somewhere back in the archives of this old blog I wrote about my feet when I first arrived in Zion. They were cracked and dry, sometimes painful to walk on. The mystic lady at the bookstore told me it was because my feet weren't happy where they were placed. By the time I left Zion that fall, 3 months later than anticipated, my feet were soft. This past summer at Mesa Verde, my feet were cracked the whole time. So far, in my return to familiar territory, my feet are happy. My first drive back into the canyon with some new friends I've made (their first Zion experience), I felt a joy I hadn't felt in so long. I cranked up my music and yelled out the open windows into the full moon night. We hiked to an overlook and the white sandstone lit up in the moonlight and I knew I was at home.

Another Brian Andreas quote for the moment-
I used to wait for a sign, she said, before I did anything. Then one night I had a dream & an angel in black tights came to me & said, you can start any time now, & then I asked is this a sign? & the angel started laughing & I woke up. Now, I think the whole world is filled with signs, but if there's no laughter, I know they're not for me.

Somebody thought I was simple this week, but I think we all are. Sometimes we pick up extra clutter along the way that disguises our nature. When I'm in my Zion, I believe my inner nature is revealed. We all have a Zion.

"way too much stuff to carry so it's probably time to settle down."

Another Brian Andreas quote I keep with me. I sit here drinking my warm chai by the fireplace as the sun rises above the canyon walls and at this moment I feel at peace. But I am still without a home and I am still unsure if Wilderness Therapy is the job for me. I miss my family. I miss friends. But I carry all these experiences with me. I feel so rich sometimes. Settling down isn't something you can plan for. But I believe I'll know it in the instant it occurs. No matter where that place is, I believe it will be a Zion.

what not to do at an airport

2008-10-28T21:29:00.005-06:00

Oh my goodness I give up. I used to be so good at writing. I not only kept up on this but I also kept my own journal. Now when my great great grandchildren want to write a story about my life (when I've become famous for... something) there will be this great big blank space. No info. And someday, when I'm old and have lost much of my memory and have received the family gift of dementia, all this will be a mystery even to myself.

I can't even begin to catch up on all that's been missed. But I can tell a good story. Well, it's not that good, but my unemployed life this month hasn't been all that story-worthy.

So the end of the summer job couldn't come soon enough. Working as an interpreter ranger at Mesa Verde was really a cool opportunity, but completely exhausting... And I was so ready to see my family again. So I drove down to Tucson and visited my aunt and uncle there (I can't be west of the Mississippi without a visit to the Sonoran desert). I left my car there to trash up their yard like ours back in Ohio that they like to make fun of. And I flew home to save time, money, and to skip out on the risk of wrecking my car again.

Despite warnings from frequent fliers who say that TSA loves to harass people carrying backpacks, I packed my backpack with all the items I thought I'd need for a month in Ohio. That basically was a tshirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and some toiletries (which I carefully studied up on and packed in their cute little quart sized bag). So I filled the rest of the space in my pack with crap I wouldn't need in Utah. The pack was completely filled. I dared not open it after everything was squeezed in.

Arrived at the airport and they asked if I'd like to check my giant piece of luggage. I said no, I would not be paying 15 extra dollars just to check one bag. That's a load of crap. So at security, I plopped the pack next to the x-ray machine and watched the pilot and flight attendents in front of me empty their pockets, pull out their toiletries bags, slip off their shoes, and smoothly walk by the TSA cops. I turned to the guy behind me and asked if he thought I'd need to do all that. He forced a smile and gave me a look like, "Aww, this is her first time flying."

I obediently took off my shoes. But I didn't dare open that bag.

MISTAKE #1
I smiled back at the man behind me, pointed at my bulging backpack, and announced "I hope they don't search that bag. It's going to explode!"

Yikes. The smile behind me turned to a frown. "Uh, that's not something you say here." Shoot! I didn't even mean that at all! I quickly tensed up, waiting for the armed guard to come tackle me to the ground. Luckily, they must not have heard me, though the concerned passengers around me did. I apologized.

MISTAKE #2
I made it through the walk-thru thingy for the first time ever. I usually have a surprise metal object attached to me or in my pockets that I forgot about. And I stood and watched my bag go through. The lady screening the machine suddenly got a look of horror on her face. She called another worker over. He got a look of fear on his face too. He took out my pack and called out, "Whose bag is this? I'm sending it through again." So I watched them call another guy over and all three of them had these bewildered, fearful expressions as my bag went through the machine.

I scanned my own mind to try to figure out what I had packed days before and prayed to god they wouldn't choose to unpack everything right there before I had to get to my flight.

An irritated looking TSA guy comes over with my pack. Please don't open my pack... "I'm going to be opening your pack and take a peak inside," he said. He proceeded to pull out every single item and I have to admit, I was kind of proud to watch the clown-car-like happenings going on with my stuff. I'm a pretty good packer I think. He huffed and puffed and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. "Is there some reason why you put a bunch of books at the bottom?" I said, "It's kind of a rule of a backpack. I wouldn't want all that weight at the top." I sighed back.

And then he found it. A strange metalic box, wrapped in tissue paper and newspaper, placed carefully inside of a cardboard box, taped shut with duct tape, and cushioned with all my clothes around it. Looking back now, I guess I see the suspiciousness of it all. Apparently, days before I left, I had carefully packed a computer hard drive and totally forgot about it (as it was camoflauged within my shirt, socks, and underwear).

I'm no expert on bombs. But, I guess that's the sort of thing that could look like one.

The TSA guy now was really huffing and puffing (I had just wasted like 5 minutes of his time which could have been spent frisking down some woman). He slid me my bag. "You can repack now. And, I'll have to confiscate your toothpaste."

Mistake #3
Don't pack toothpaste.

my house

2008-08-03T16:39:00.003-06:00

My first house was amazing. I lived in it alone and I had a skylight! I always wanted a skylight. And then, I got my rent statement. $527 a month wasn't worth a skylight.

My house now is perfect. It's an old cabin built by the CCC back in the 30's. It sits on the edge of a canyon and I have a great view (even though it's all burnt).

Yes, you do see a horse in this picture. There's a feral horse that likes my yard. He sometimes lives there too. I like to watch him roll around in the rabbitbrush when he has an itch.

I can see Ute peak over the mesa and the sun sets directly behind it. I am so lucky to live here.

pretty stuff

2008-08-03T16:34:00.001-06:00

2008-08-03T16:22:00.002-06:00

My job is to lead groups of up to 60 people through these cliff dwellings and to make sure they have a good time, learn or experience something, and that they don't damage the place. It means that ranger guides have to be entertainers, educators, and rule enforcers. Somedays I feel like all I did was entertain for an hour and made sure nobody got hurt. I call that a successful day.

the mesa

2008-08-03T16:14:00.002-06:00

As I drove up the mesa I was remembering the last time I visited... In 1996, we came just days after the park reopened after a huge fire. This time as I drove, even more of the park was burnt. They say since 1996, over half the park has burnt in major wildfires. It makes finding a bit of color even more incredible...

christening of The Egg

2008-08-03T16:08:00.002-06:00

Drove by a tornado in Kansas and my car was pelted with hail and now bears scars of the long journey west. I'm realizing this is the first picture of The Egg on my blog. Hopefully first of many pics of my travels. I was thankful for the Subaru's lack of aerodynamics on the windshield. There was a Dodge Neon parked near me at this gas station with the windshield shattered from the hail.

leaving Ohio...

2008-08-03T16:05:00.001-06:00

In early June, I left Yellow Springs, OH and my little screechie-peas whom I miss terribly.

No internets

2008-08-03T16:00:00.003-06:00

Aaahh! I'm so behind in updating it makes me want to give up this whole thing. As you can see, internet (or "internets" as my brothers and W call it) is not the easiest to come by. The only internet access is at work and who wants to come in on their off hours to work? Cell coverage is none too. But my roommate and I got a landline. If anybody wants the number, just call and leave me a message on my cell.

So Mesa Verde country is beautiful. And I find it interesting that all through school I hated history. And here my job revolves around it. But this is prehistory so I guess that makes it ok.

I'm going to try to post some pics...

Mesa Verde

2008-06-08T18:01:00.003-06:00

I have found the internet...

And it's not behind a sketchy hotel this time. I'm sitting in the lodge at Mesa Verde and it's a great place to people watch. This park must attract the older generations because I keep seeing the 60 and up crowd; flat butts from sitting in the RV all day, traveling across the country and buying up obnoxious-sized turquoise rings and bolo ties off the reservations. It's ok for me to stereotype this crowd. For years my granddad did this stuff. And now one of those obnoxious-sized turquoise rings is my favorite piece of jewelry. It's great to be back in the west again, where the skies are so large and the dirt is so rusty. Ohio was beautiful during the spring and I'm glad I finally got to witness that, but I felt like I couldn't breathe after awhile. Kind of like if you only took short little breaths for awhile. I needed a big breath, maybe a yawn. That's the only way to describe it. I feel like I can breathe again.

I had full intentions of posting pics of Glen Helen... but my computer isn't reading the cd right now. Someday I'll do a post on that place. Absolutely gorgeous. After living in the woods for 5 months, it's so strange to look out. It's strange to have the sun rise on my face again and to experience a slow, beautiful sunset.

Now that I've found internet, hopefully I'll post some of my own pics. These are stolen from google images.

beautiful.

ohio...

2008-03-22T20:29:00.003-06:00

It's been so long since I've updated this thing, I forgot how to log on. I was told the other day that it's been too long since I've written. The truth is, when I'm in Ohio I don't feel anything's worthy enough to post. But when I look back on pictures I've taken of the nature preserve I'm living in right now, I have to admit that Ohio can be pretty sometimes. So, at some point I'm going to remember to post pictures. But for now I want to post a poem I was emailed. This is how I feel about my winter months in good old Ohio...

It's winter in Ohio
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
at twenty five below.

Oh, how I love Ohio
When the snow's up to your butt
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful
So, I guess I'll hang around
I could never leave Ohio
Cause I'm frozen to the ground!

Garden of the Gods, Colorado

2007-11-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

Pike's Peak, Colorado

2007-11-09T22:45:00.000-07:00

Sangre de Christo Mountains, New Mexico

2007-11-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

There was an amazing sunset over the foothills.

chimayo

2007-11-09T22:32:00.000-07:00

Santuario de Chimayo, New Mexico

2007-11-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

I drove out into Georgia O'Keefe country to find a small church built in the hills where there was said to be "holy dirt" that was responsible for many miracles. I thought this would be a good fix for my swollen cactus-bruised leg. I found the small hole in the floor in the corner of the church and reached my hand into the cool brown dirt and rubbed it on my calve... no relief. But I love rubbing dirt on myself anyway so it felt good.

Loretto Chapel, Santa Fe

2007-11-09T22:05:00.000-07:00

I'd heard of a stairway in Santa Fe where a spiral staircase mysteriously appeared and is made of extinct wood with no support. This was something I had to see. It was pretty but I couldn't get very close and there wasn't really much else to see except for an extensive gift shop full of saints figurines.

sad scrappy

2007-11-09T21:47:00.000-07:00

rip scrappy

2007-11-07T10:22:00.000-07:00

So today was the day I was supposed to be home… It’s my nephew’s birthday. He’s turning 2. I bought him a train conductor’s hat on top of Pike’s Peak last Friday and I was so excited to be home with my family and to see him smiling with all his new train toys my brothers gave him for his birthday and wearing his new hat. That would have been today. Wednesday. For a month I’ve been thinking about this day, planning for this day, so excited for this day. I was excited to unpack my car after almost 4 weeks of living out of it, excited to watch Ohio State football games on Saturdays on our comfy couch with my dad, anxious to see my dog and cat and anticipating the fights over who gets to sleep with me, planning on cleaning my car inside and out and thanking it for such an amazing journey. Then I’d print all my photos and lay them out on the floor and show my family where me and my car, Scrappy, have gone. They wouldn’t believe it.

I’ve traveled up and down mountains; across an empty desert where I considered squatting behind a saguaro to pee; into ancient churches where I covered my hands and legs in cool, holy dirt out of a hole in the floor; into canyons where I climbed rocks and tested my courage; I’ve walked into a cactus and had a swollen leg for a week; ran through the desert in Tucson where I amazingly did not hit a cactus; rode an old train up a 14,000 ft peak where I could see clear out to Kansas; and sunned myself on rocks in the Garden of the Gods… I’ve stayed with family and friends in Tucson and Payson, AZ; Colorado Springs, Denver, and Lakewood, CO; and spent only one lonely night alone in Santa Fe, NM.

I’m supposed to be home. I’m in Lakewood, just outside of Denver still. And it’s Wednesday. That Wednesday I’ve been thinking about. I called my nephew and hung up and cried. I’m sitting in a coffee shop while my friends Mel and Jason are working. They’re letting me stay with them until things get cleared up, til I find a way home.

I was in an accident Monday morning as I was getting an early start for Kansas City to stay with a family friend. I don’t have a clue where the car came from but I was hit on the driver’s side door. I can’t get the sound of that "pop" out of my head, that sound when the two metals collided and my head slammed against the side window. I’ve been laying in bed the past two nights reliving the experience over and over. I heard the pop and suddenly my car wasn’t mine to control. Like a wild horse it lept forward and into a curb and onto gravel where it came to a stop. Over and over I just repeated "oh my god oh my god…" Still not even sure what happened. I just sat there and looked around my car. Nothing looked funny except a bunch of my belongings were now at my feet. Cars were swerving around me and I realized I had to get out or I’d get hit again. I couldn’t open the door. I had to throw my body into it and it just fell open. I stepped out and covered my mouth… oh my god. My door was dented in and the tire was missing under the car and the front corner was completely smashed.

Vainly, my first thoughts aren’t, Is the other person ok? Am I ok? It’s, Scrappy’s gone. I can’t believe my car is gone.

When I was in Arizona and the border police asked what was under the blankets in the back of my car and I said, "My life," that was the truth. Everything I considered valuable was in my car and was my car. I’m writing this like a cowboy who’s just lost a good horse. And if you think that sounds ridiculous and I’m being too dramatic, then you don’t know what it’s like to have a good car. I mean, a really good car. And you don’t know what it’s like to be me… a person who attaches to inanimate objects probably alittle too easily.

54,000 miles and I was there from mile one. My little hatchback fit my life in it to and from college my junior and senior year. It roadtripped out west and back 6 times. It took me out to San Francisco and through Yosemite and Death Valley for my first roadtrip alone. It squeezed five 23-year old girls and camping gear in it for a 10 day roadtrip through Utah and Arizona’s National Parks… plus all the treasures we found in Mexico. It took me across Boulder Mountain and into my first camping experience alone. And when I drove clear to St. George, UT for groceries it was really so I could just sing at the top of my lungs to the redrock desert passing by as Scrappy sped past all the slow cars. It really had a lot of speed, just a little ford focus.

Aaah!!! I need to stop thinking about it.

It’s like someone died. And thank God I’m alright and the other lady was alright. They stuck an IV in my arm at the scene because my heart rate wouldn't go under 140. They kept asking me to calm down. That's easy for them to say. They took me in an ambulance to the ER to get x-rays and a cat scan for possible internal head injuries. But everything showed up fine. And I haven’t thrown up so I guess that means there was no concussion. The past two days I’ve had headaches and neck pain, but today I feel absolutely fine. Just two days after the accident. I should be thankful.

My car was a symbol of my freedom. It took me to all sorts of seemingly inaccessable places and back again. Its last week in Zion it took me off road where it wasn’t supposed to go. And I still never got stuck. I could cross the country over and over and I knew my car was reliable. I planned on driving it into the ground and I knew it could do that. Almost all of its 54,000 miles were highway miles and desert miles. Nothing too rough. I cleaned it inside and out regularly and got it’s oil changed way before it was ever due. I was a freak. And what was all that for?

So I’m waiting in Denver til we figure things out. Might rent a car. Might pack all my stuff up and mail it and just fly home. Maybe they’ll determine it’s not totalled and Dad will come out and tow it home with me. I don’t know anything right now and it’s so frustrating.

Where in the world am I?

2007-11-01T21:46:00.001-06:00

In response to the questions from my family and friends... I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants on my way home to Ohio, stopping where I want to stop and taking my time getting there... well, as long as I get there by the 7th or so. I've been out of my house since the 15th and though I'm always passing through places where I have a bed to sleep in, I'm still kind of living out of my car and I'm tired of that. So a week from now, I should finally be there!

Yesterday had an awesome time in Santa Fe and drove north to the Santuario de Chimayo where they have holy dirt in a hole in the floor and I was allowed to take a jar of it! I rubbed it on my leg where I ran into a cactus and it didn't heal it unfortunately.

Tucson

2007-11-01T21:35:00.000-06:00

Stayed with my aunt Casey and uncle Punch in Tucson where I became a complete load. Slept, read, swam, watched the sunset, swam, sat in the hot tub, read, ran through the desert, took pictures of the horses and chickens and my uncle's artwork, slept some more... and a ridiculous amount of tv watching. I hadn't seen a tv for so long and thought I was so out of the loop and then I realized the news was as depressing and uninteresting as it used to be. Visited the Sonoran Desert Museum and watched the javalinas dig their noses in the dirt and went to a Peace March with Punch. One day I drove down to Tubac, near the border of Mexico, and border patrol stopped me on the way back to check out my sketchy car with all my stuff in the back covered by blankets. They asked me what was under the blanket and I said, "uh, my life," and they still wanted to search it. They found just what I told them they'd find... no people under there.

2007-11-01T21:32:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:30:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:26:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:25:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:23:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:21:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:19:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T21:16:00.000-06:00

dream dog

2007-11-01T21:13:00.000-06:00

My dream dog jumped in my car before I left Utah. It wanted to come home with me... a baby pitbull with pretty brown eyes.

Capital Reef National Park

2007-11-01T21:08:00.000-06:00

I took my first big girl camping trip, all alone... (though the Italians in the site next to me decided they didn't like their patch of grass and camped with me). It wasn't as scary as I thought. Set up camp and then walked to the orchards to pick some apples for dinner. The next morning I got up and did the scenic drive and hiked a bit and came back for a breakfast of fresh-baked cherry pie and homemade bread from the museum!

2007-11-01T21:05:00.000-06:00

You can eat as many apples as you'd like in this park service operated garden of eden. I picked a handful and ate them on the spot... the best apples I've ever tasted. And that's not just because I was surrounded by beautiful Utah rocks and dirt.

2007-11-01T21:00:00.000-06:00

Fall Color in Zion

2007-11-01T20:58:00.001-06:00

Drove up the KT road to see the Aspens and Maples. The Cottonwoods in the canyon hadn't changed yet.

2007-11-01T20:55:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T20:52:00.000-06:00

Deertrap Mountain

2007-11-01T20:45:00.000-06:00

One of my last days in Zion I decided to hike out to Deertrap to take in a new view of Zion. Incredible view. The rocks looked so different from up there, it took me awhile to recognize them. Got lost on my way to the trailhead and found myself accidently driving down a trail. I realized this when my little hatchback no longer fit through the trees and brush. Then I couldn't find a place to turn around so I did one of those 40-point turns. Glad I have a little car!

2007-11-01T20:43:00.000-06:00

2007-11-01T20:41:00.000-06:00

Pics from Paria Canyon

2007-09-29T19:05:00.000-06:00

We set out to do Buckskin Gulch but flash flood potential was high and rain was 80%, so we hiked down Paria Canyon, camped on high ground, and returned early in the morning as the rain sprinkled down.

2007-09-29T19:02:00.000-06:00

debris from flash flood

2007-09-29T19:01:00.000-06:00

2007-09-29T18:59:00.000-06:00

2007-09-29T18:58:00.000-06:00

2007-09-29T18:55:00.000-06:00

2007-09-29T18:50:00.000-06:00

2007-09-29T18:47:00.000-06:00

Movin' out!

2007-09-29T18:28:00.000-06:00

I don't think anyone checks this anymore and it seems to have become a shrine to myself, but I like that cause I like re-reading my adventures. But in case anyone checks, please don't mail anything else to Box 52... my box is closing and I'm getting ready to move out of here. So send all mail to General Delivery instead... atleast till the 13th of October when I finish here.

Thanks!

Utah.

2007-09-06T20:26:00.001-06:00

Where dad retires the family TV by taking it out back and shooting it.

2007-09-06T20:18:00.000-06:00

GO SLOW. PETRO ART.

Are they concerned about us speeding by and missing the ancient petroglyphs scratched across the rock walls all around us or about hitting the idiot laying in the road?

the border

2007-09-06T20:15:00.001-06:00

"handstands on the edge of Utah"

resurrection moss

2007-09-06T20:12:00.000-06:00

There's a type of moss that grows in Zion called Resurrection Moss. It grows and turns bright green only after the rain. The canyon literally is more colorful when it rains.

monsoon season

2007-09-06T20:05:00.000-06:00

As the clouds rolled by, the rocks called out, "Hey, what's it like to fly?"

gutter-fishing

2007-08-27T13:21:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I drove to St. George for groceries. In the world I grew up in, you drive 7 minutes down the road to the store and get what you need when you need it. You don't devise a list all week and then embark on an hour long drive involving a cooler and ice packs so you can keep your milk and chicken cold in a city that is usually 5-10 degrees hotter than Zion... which is just draining. Grocery shopping wears me out. And it's been so dry and hot here that I was dreading spending an hour or two in a place that was even drier and hotter.

On my way through Rockville, UT, I saw a boy sitting in the gutter with a fishing pole. And as I watched, something tugged and he excitedly rolled back on his back and reeled whatever it was in. I thought there can't be any water in there... He might have caught a tire.

I got to St. George and on the horizon a long stretch of red dust cloud was growing and moving closer. It looked like an ocean wave far off in the distance or a scene from the Sahara with the heat waves lifting off the ground, making the whole thing look like a mirage. A storm was coming. I rushed all my errands so I could get back to Zion in time to catch the waterfalls that appear off the rims of the cliffs when it storms. But as I frantically drove back, I realized I had missed it. The street through Rockville was full of puddles and the gutter where the boy was fishing was now a river full of red mud.

The canyon had grown more colorful when I was gone. It literally takes on more color as the red rocks are saturated and the desert varnish becomes shiny and a thing called Resurrection Moss comes to life and expands and turns bright green on the cliffs. Oak Creek, which is usually a dried up stream-bed behind my house, had erupted into life and red-brown water was roaring through my backyard.

When it rains in the desert, something almost spiritual takes place. The plants and sandstone graciously accept the drink and rivers and waterfalls come out of nowhere. This morning it rained again and I got out of bed and stood outside to watch Oak Creek flash again. I came back in and opened the doors and windows to let the breeze and new smells come in and I fell back asleep with wet hair. The rain seeped into my dry skin and hair as I lay on the couch and the lightning kept sending flashes across my eyelids.

I felt cleaned and decided I didn't need a shower today.

Aaahh! It's beautiful! I'm looking out the window at the library at the West Temple. The sun finally came out and the sky is blue again. Someone just came in and I heard them say to the librarian "Don't you just love this? Everything has been washed clean."

an update on updating...

2007-08-13T14:49:00.001-06:00

That amazing internet signal I miraculously picked up at my home is no more. And I rarely feel like coming to town after work to update my blog...

so, just an update. I probably won't be updating much these days. If I remember at some point, i will bring my camara cord to town to post some of the amazing pictures I've taken the past few months here. Seasons have definitely changed since those last pics I put up. It's been so hot here and I've heard myself say things I never thought I'd ever say... "aah, shade." "Yay! It only got up to 98 today!" "Let's turn on the swamp cooler so we can wear sweatshirts." "Is that a cloud I see over there?!?"

I thought I was a total desert rat. But apparently, I do miss clouds and rain and sweatshirts. Went home for my friend Jamie's wedding last month and Ohio looked like a jungle with all the green. I hadn't seen an Ohio summer for three years. It was beautiful.

I've seen

2007-07-06T17:40:00.000-06:00

I have been horrible at updating. I have been worthless at emails and phonecalls. I have been lazy about journaling. My wireless internet at my house has left as mysteriously as it arrived. It returns occasionally but while I'm here at the library, I'll try to do a quick update.

In the past few weeks, I've seen

... a Bobcat! It ran right in front of my car as I was driving up the switchbacks to work one morning. It was larger than I thought they were supposed to be but I don't remember a tail so it must not have been a mountain lion.

... Desert Bighorn sheep just playing around on the East side of the park.

... a tree fall. I heard popping noises like firecrackers near my house on Oak Creek and then I saw the treetop of a cottonwood tree go down and heard the big bang.

... a mountainside ignite on fire. We don't have "mountains" here but that just sounds more dramatic. For the fourth of July, Springdale had a firework show but it had to be cut short because a firework ignited the whole hillside on fire. I heard rumors of it burning over 20 acres but who knows if that's true. The west temple rock formation was behind the fire and the whole red rock wall glowed as if a spotlight were on it! The crazy tour-ons evacuated and the rest of us just sat and watched it burn.

... a California Condor! She was just perched on a ledge at the Grand Canyon North Rim. Occassionaly she'd stretch out her 10 ft long wingspan just to show off.

... children teaching their parents about the Condor and how once there were only a couple dozen alive on Earth. On a sappy note, I got all teary eyed watching this because I remembered these are the kids who will be protecting this land one day.

to own Color

2007-05-21T19:03:00.000-06:00

I remember going to the ring shop with my mom when I was little to get her wedding ring fixed. I remember realizing this was an important mission for her and I remember a quick moment of concern when she took off her wedding ring and handed it to the man at the shop and I thought something was wrong with my parent’s marriage. I remember going back to the ring shop with her to pick it up.

I remember the color emerald green.

She had it on her ring. She wore it in her clothes. She wore it in her big square earrings that went out of style way before she quit wearing them. But I never liked the color emerald green. My favorite color when I was little was white, until I was told that didn’t count. But white was clean and pretty and I thought it was the most beautiful color of all.

I saw something that was an emerald green today and I thought, ooh how pretty! And then I wondered, when did that switch occur?

I live in Color Country. That’s what they sometimes call it. Every color you can imagine can be found in the rocks or dirt or trees or wildflowers around here. When the Virgin River swells and curves, there are parts where you can’t even reach the bottom and you can tell because that part of the river turns a brilliant shade of emerald green. It sparkles like my mom’s ring. It’s beautiful.

We used to travel through Navajo nation on vacation through Arizona and we’d stop at the Navajo road-side stands and mom and I’d buy jewelry. I resented that they used so much turquoise because I didn’t like turquoise so I bought necklaces with juniper beads because they were brown instead. When my granddad died we each received something from his jewelry collection. My granddad loved turquoise. I have one of his turquoise rings from the Navajo and I turned it into a bracelet and it’s my favorite piece of jewelry. I never appreciated turquoise until then. Now it’s one of my favorite colors and there’s no better match than turquoise next to dusty brown skin.

I can’t imagine my life if I hadn’t taken the risks I’ve taken and gone the places I’ve gone. I wonder if my favorite color would still be white. It seems with each new adventure I add another color to my pallet and my world is already overwhelmingly colorful. Sometimes we can argue on whether a car is green or blue and assume the other person is color-blind. But the truth is, we’ve only seen color through our own lens and I don’t think we ever are seeing the same thing. Color is more powerful than just a label. With each passing experience, we own colors. We connect thoughts and memories and scents to them. And we’ll never see eye to eye and I think that’s beautiful.

happiness

2007-05-08T22:43:00.000-06:00

I made cinnamon Indian Frybread tonight and it was easier than grilled cheese.

I couldn't be more content.

when Laura came to town

2007-05-02T22:36:00.000-06:00

The past couple weeks, some strange things were happening in the park. Suddenly there were lots of local law enforcement coming in and out. And then there were these guys hanging out by park headquarters always rolling suitecases behind them, wearing bermuda shorts and hawaiian shirts, who smiled and waved as if they knew the place and knew exactly who you were. They dressed like tourists but they were so obviously not. Then we finally were told the big secret... Laura Bush was coming to the park. Secret service had been in and out, making preparations, for the past couple weeks atleast.

I so happened to be working the entrance station where she was scheduled to arrive. And she came, blew through my outbound lane in a convoy of toyota minivans. And that was it. Not too much excitement. But then, we were told to watch out for sketchy people. And I had this girl come through, with a slight tone of possible bitterness in her voice, she said, "You know why I'm here. There will probably be more like me." Totally just sounds like a groupee, or a fan, or wacky stalker type... not anything really dangerous. But I called her in anyway, mostly cause of the tone of her voice. Next thing I know, she had pulled into the private event and law enforcement quickly was on her. She played dumb tourist and asked where the shuttle was. Today I came into work and someone told me that she ended up on the news and turned out to be a Bush supporter. Why in the word the media jumped on this one, I have no clue.

Apparently Laura stuck around a couple days. Some people protested and though the thought of war makes me sick too, they make me sicker because they can't separate a good issue from a bad. She was in town to rededicate our nature center and I think it's good to just focus on that. My friend Lex says you can't be a dark cloud every day.

I liked that.

I amaze myself

2007-04-27T20:08:00.000-06:00

Just when I thought that taking some extra vitamins was keeping my mind pretty straight, I do this. I was craving cinnamon...

I had an extra tube of crescent rolls in the fridge and got out my cinnamon and butter and found a random bag of white powder in the cupboard which I assumed was sugar. I spread the sugar and cinnamon all over the dough and rolled them up all cute and popped them in the oven...

I sat and salivated...

I couldn't wait for the rolls to cool off, I popped one into my mouth. Something tasted funny, but I couldn't figure it out. It kind of made me feel sick. I figured I should try another just to investigate this further. I gobbled down the second one, but really kind of hating it. Then, I couldn't believe it. I had a whole bunch of cinnamon rolls sitting there just begging to be eaten and I didn't think I could handle another one. They were making me kind of sick.

I looked over my ingredients again. I figured it was the butter I used. Must have been bad butter. For some reason, I kept overlooking the suspicious bag of white powder. Finally, after checking out the butter, my eyes fell on the white stuff. I stuck my tongue into the bag to taste it, expecting one great sugar rush.

Salt.

I had to do one of those hurry and rub your tongue to get all that crap off kind of gestures like my dad did when he accidently ate a dog breath mint.

the greatest

2007-04-12T20:33:00.000-06:00

I walked along surrounded by the cathedral of cliffs and suddenly the pine shot off into the sky. I looked up and asked which was greatest.

...then I knew, it was the three of us, together, in this place.

them there five-foot tumbleweeds

2007-04-12T20:27:00.000-06:00

Today I was crossing a small creek as I was walking back from work and under the bridge was the most gigantic, mindblowing tumbleweed you could ever imagine. I mean, it was so big that it felt like a joke… like someone had hidden it here with a camara to watch how people reacted to it. It reminded me of those British comedy skits where the guy pulls out the four-foot long phone in public and tries to talk on it.

I started laughing as I lifted it up with my shoe to see how big it really was. I swear it was like five feet across. One giant tumbleweed. Well, as I lifted it to see it, the wind caught hold of it and it took off.

I heard it yell “Praise Jesus, I’m healed” as it leapt into the air and sped off ahead of me. It ran toward my home and I was trailing behind it laughing, hoping it wouldn’t hit anyone’s car or dog. And then it stopped. I was afraid we were playing some sort of game of tag and if I passed it, it would catch up with me on another gust of wind and knock me in the head, so I reached out and picked it up to move it off the road. Then I felt really silly walking down the road with a five-foot tumbleweed.

Apparently, I didn’t realize cause I’d never decided to touch one before… but tumbleweeds feel like a cactus, only maybe alittle worse. Because now my hands are full of about a hundred little yellow needles or pricker-like things. And where I dropped him off in the grass, tumbleweed immediately decided to go dance off across the road again anyway. So, all in vain. But atleast I will always be able to say, during those endless stretches of highway in Kansas and you have nothing to talk about except “Whoa, look at that tumbleweed!”… Now I’ll say, “But did you ever see one of them 5 footer ones? No? Well, I have.” And maybe I could make one out of concrete and post signs along a 70 mile stretch of highway telling people to pull off and see the “World’s Largest Tumbleweed!…and a 3-Legged Cow named Sue” (except I’ll say the cow fell and broke a hip and is in a cow treatment facility). And I’d put my attraction right next to the World’s Largest Prairie Dog and feed off it’s business, especially since he’s never open.

Venetian

2007-04-07T19:33:00.000-06:00

Vegas with Amy and Danielle

2007-04-07T19:31:00.000-06:00

foot appreciating Vegas architecture

2007-04-07T19:29:00.000-06:00

roadtrip- Lawrence, KS

2007-04-07T19:25:00.000-06:00

2007-04-07T19:24:00.000-06:00

Henry

2007-04-07T19:22:00.000-06:00

my zion

2007-04-07T19:01:00.000-06:00

Who knew two years later, I'd be sitting in my car back at this Best Western, stealing wireless internet, working the same job again, and most amazingly, that this computer Shawna gave me would still be alive!

A week ago, I turned a key and pushed through a heavy door and into the living room of my home for the next 7 months. Dropped my bags at my feet and finished unloading the car. It didn’t take long because I roadtripped with two other friends and their own luggage, so basically everything I own here was shoved into the hatchback trunk of my car.

I expected to be the last to arrive in this house, as work started the next day. But I soon learned from maintenance that I would be living here alone for the next month. My two housemates are seasonals for wildfire and they don’t need to arrive till May. I scouted out the bedrooms and immediately came face to face with Henry.

Henry got his name because I needed to put a friendly, happy spin on this unwelcome housemate. He’s a large spider with fangs that are visible from a few feet away, furry pale yellow legs with black feet, and when he spreads his legs out he’s the size of the palm of my hand. I remembered these guys from when I lived in Zion before. I don’t think they bite. I just think they’re kinda OCD as they scurry from room to room eating up all the spiders and gnats and ants that creep in, like little furry maids that actually love their job.

So it’s me and Henry here together. He follows me and watches me do laundry and cook my meals and at night when I come out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth, he is waiting at the door like Reese, my dog, always did when her eyes begged isn’t it time for bed? Except Henry has a lot of eyes and I don’t like to get close enough to see all of them.

I could kick Henry out… but I have two fears- that he’d come back all angry and use his fangs on me in my sleep, or the more likely, my house will become overrun by lots of bugs and spiders that really would bite me in my sleep.

My job is the same as I did two years ago. Lots of things have changed, but I’m remembering a lot and that is helping. I’m on a four day weekend already and I am bored out of my mind. How could I be bored in Zion? I’ve gone out walking or hiking almost everyday and honestly, I’m just tired of walking alone. If I could put a spider on a leash, well, I guess I’d take him.

People have probably given up checking up on me since I haven’t posted in ages, but if you do, you’re welcome to come visit me. I’m lonely! And I like visitors. Yes, even you.

2007-01-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in ages. I'm so used to writing about adventures and life right now in Ohio just isn't that exciting. I haven't applied for jobs yet because I really don't know what to do.

If anybody reads this, please send (1)money (2)job ideas

I know a lot of us say we're a part of this campaign but I guess you're not really a part until you act on it. This sounds like a good time to act...

http://action.one.org/dia/organizationsONE/one/campaign.jsp?campaign_KEY=1297&t=OneColumn.dwt

the acorn slippers/coming home

2006-11-24T19:11:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t find my acorn slippers anywhere today. It drove me nuts (dum dum tah). I went around blaming everybody, even questioning if I somehow took them off while pushing through the day-after-Thanksgiving Target crowds and came home barefoot. I had to wear mom’s Crocs the rest of the day. I hate those shoes. They make my feet feel really nice but they look ridulous.

I can’t believe I actually went out today. I came home minus a pair of shoes and with a bruised ankle from some lady who decided to push me out of her way with her cart and hit me right in the achilles tendon. Her lips formed the word “sorry” but all I heard was “that’ll teach you, ya lard, for standing in the middle of the way while I’m trying to rush to that last turkey fryer on sale for $30!” But, it’s all a part of coming home to the Christmas season. This is what we do. And I like it. Mom and I find any excuse to “run errands” and drive through Wendy’s along the way to get our medium-sized Mr. Pibbs.

I’m surprised to find coming home isn’t much of a shock to me. All year I went around thinking my cat since elementary school, Miss Kitty, had died while I was in Colorado because no one had mentioned her on the phone to me. She’s not regular conversation, but no one said a word and I knew that meant she finally died and nobody wanted to tell me. I walked into the house Tuesday night and there she was, back turned to me, totally ignoring me in her cute hateful way. I reached down to pet her, exclaiming my joy that she was alive, and she growled, hissed, and launched a fist at me. I also had figured some of our stray cats would have disappeared by now, but they’re all still here, almost still in one piece. The one, who we always dubbed the “smart” one, seems to have dislodged her brain from her spinal cord or something. She doesn’t see too straight anymore and she walks around shaking her little head and it makes a loud rattling noise. She has a defense mechanism now only rattlesnakes had before, and I think that’s cute.

Ohio has surprised me with sunshine and almost tshirt weather. Three days now. Sometimes I feel like celebrating global warming. The house looks and feels mostly the same, except for the old fart bedroom my parents built on the first floor. My brothers all came home for my birthday and Thanksgiving and I’ve been farted on and burped at and it feels somewhat nostalgic. The neffew, Carter, is humongous and walks around singing and smiling. The greesedog sleeps with me every night. My first meal I requested, tuna noodle casserole. And I gulped it down with several big glasses of milk. After ten months of living on $4 a day for food I’ve realized that’s pretty much how we eat anyway, except you get to eat more yogurt and drink more milk now.

My acorn shoes are sitting under this desk I’m typing at. I think that’s kind of funny. Now I remember that’s just where I left them and I feel bad for yelling at my brothers for stealing them. I feel like this is the setting for a good tv show ending… camera zooms in on the shoes, then me smiling, then pans out the window with some slowing piano music… because I left my shoes here, then lived a full day, and came back to them, right where I left them. In January, I drove off to Colorado, lived 10 months of life, and came home and found things haven’t really changed. And I like that.

heading home!

2006-11-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

I graduated from Americorps on Wednesday. Spending a few days with my friends Amy and Jamie before I leave... absorbing as much of Colorado as I can before heading to cold and rainy and dark Ohio.

I'll be home by Thanksgiving!!!

leaving New Orleans

2006-10-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

I had another dream about my sleepy grey town. Check out Oct 9, 2005 entry "fire dancers, pot smokers, and me." I wonder if every time I'm about to come home I'm going to dream about this town again.

I was walking down a sidewalk in a city full of skyscrapers. The clouds were grey, the buildings were grey, everything was grey. It was one of the only times I've been very aware that my dreams are black and white. I was walking with two of my good friends, except when I glanced at them I realized I didn't know them at all. I had no clue who these people were that I was walking with but we all pretended to be friends and walked together.

I saw a big storefront window and stopped. My friends stopped and waited for me as I peeked inside. I cupped my hands around my face and looked in. Suddenly my dream burst into color and I saw New Orleans. I saw a row of houses; red, yellow, green, blue, and purple... sweet New Orleans houses. They're so beautiful all colorful and with decorative trim. But these houses were crooked, very crooked. Some on their sides, some upside down, some sinking into water.

I tried to figure out where I had seen this scene before. The chaos of Katrina stayed for months, now a year, stillframes of destruction, because there were more important things to do. A house sitting in the middle of the street could sit in the middle of that street for a year and that's why many published photos from the storm I can recognize and know exactly where they were taken. I knew this scene, I remembered it.

But I didn't want to remember it anymore. I turned around and looked at my two friends, "I'm ready to pretend this didn't happen." And we walked on.

I woke up.

I'm more than ready to get out of here. There's still so much to be done but I have a chance to get away. I need it.

The people of New Orleans who were able to come back can't get away. Day after day they drive to work, swerving down their streets through a neighborhood of debris piles and at night they come home to the same familiar scene. They want to get away too, but their duty right now is to stay. The city needs them to stay. The city needs its life back. So many people were just put on planes and rushed out of here, sent to weird destinations like New Hampshire. And not everybody has the money to get a car or plane ticket to get back. They can't be blamed.

I want out of here so bad but there's so much more to do. I have a feeling I won't be gone long...

I'm coming home!!!

2006-10-24T09:29:00.000-06:00

It's been cold here in New Orleans... coats and pants weather... like Ohio maybe a month ago. I never thought it would get this way. People here are funny though. I saw a lady yesterday standing outside her trailer talking on the phone wearing full-out snow gear. Brrr! It's in the 60s!!!

I can't believe I've been down here since July (with a nice little roadtrip in between). It's nice being in one place for the transition of seasons.

But I can't wait to come home to Ohio! Not for the state itself, but for my family and friends. So this is my little update-

My address is now 1360 SR 314 N
Mansfield, OH 44903
Don't send anything more to the New Orleans address or Denver address because they won't be forwarding anything home to me.

See you soon...

sitting, watching, waiting

2006-10-19T10:28:00.000-06:00

SITTING.
Ms. Williams sat on her steps, breathing in each shovel-full of black moldy debris we carried out. Every day I wanted to tell her to move, but I don’t think she let one shovel go by without her eye on it. She watched the remains of her candy shop pile up on the side of the road, only to wait for the big truck to come carry it all on to that final resting place that has us all in denial of its existence. Yes, this trash all goes somewhere. It’s all torn apart and crushed and compacted, and then, it just sits like Ms. Williams does… for eternity it seems, with perpetual youth that outlasts her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren… mostly cause they got cancer from the trash that sits.
WATCHING.
In the church St Drexel built, we sat and watched as Ms. Pierce stood before the congregation in tears. Her name was on every free gutting service list available. Her house sat untouched, except for the broken window and keepsakes thrown around by looters who found nothing to their value. Her brother left town and vowed to never come back. Her neighborhood abandoned her too, except for the lanky man in the FEMA trailer on the corner who’d lean on his cane and watch us work, casting skinny shadows in the New Orleans sun. Maybe he had to gut his house himself. Maybe he watched us, wondering how Ms. Pierce moved up on those lists. I don’t know, but he watched. Ms. Pierce claims it was a miracle.
WAITING.
It’s raining today and I’m remembering how badly the streets flooded when it rained in St. Bernard. I sat next to a young mother and two of her sons at dinner one night. She said she’s afraid she brought them back too early. Maybe they should have stayed in Texas longer. The one boy clutched her, terrified of the rain, shaking at each pounding on the metal roof. She looked at me and told me he’s waiting for another hurricane. From the start of June till the end of November they wait, knowing any day could bring another Katrina. From December till the end of May they’re still waiting… $100 billion was promised them, and nobody has gotten a cent.
sitting.
They sit in front of their TV sets and hear all the bad news. They sit and criticize Bush and everyone else they can blaim except for their lazy selves… saying the government should go in there and fix things.
It took me nine months to realize that’s me.
watching.
I show them pictures, tell them stories, send home video just so they’ll get an idea of the chaos. They watch it and I still hear, “Aren’t things cleaned up yet?”
waiting.
Ms. Williams is waiting for the money to hang sheetrock on her bare studs.
Ms. Pierce waits to see if her home’s worth bulldozing.
The boy waits for the hurricane.
I’m waiting for a chronic disease.
We’re all waiting to finally go home.

random thoughts on "stuff"

2006-10-04T23:04:00.000-06:00

The other night I read a startling fact in my Sierra Club magazine. Even more startling was that I was actually exercising when I read it, making that 36 bucks to join the New Orleans YMCA worth it, and making the rest of those losers who work out for a living think that I actually take care of my body too… ok, not really. I admire them and wish there were some other compulsion to exercise other than I gave my credit card digits to the lady at the front desk and now I need to make sure I get my money’s worth.

But what I read was that in a 2004 survey, one-third of Americans said greed and materialism are our most urgent moral problems. Now I don’t know if there were options in this survey and the other options were people who spit incessantly because they have a phobia of saliva (I admit it… it’s me) or people who keep fingernail clippings to mail to their older brothers (also… me). But it sounds like people possibly have a clue into what I agree is a huge moral problem.

The same magazine had an article that I dog-eared earlier in the pages called “The Devil’s in the Retail; A cult of consumerism is sweeping the planet.” The author talked about a conference called “Gathering of Hearts” that he attended along with the Dalai Lama; leaders of the Sunni, Shia, and Sufi sects of Islam; the Episcopal dean of Grace Cathedral; Jewish rabbis, a member of the Iroquois Confederacy, and a Hindu. They all agreed that one moral problem is challenging all faiths… consumerism. He wrote of this new religion, “Its God is Mammon, its temples shopping malls, and its altars constructed of dollars, euros, yen, and rupees. As for its teachings, they consist of a sole commandment: Buy more.”

Back to me. Cause all my stories center around me. Yes it’s true. I got back this afternoon from a morning of gutting. Finished one home this morning and started on our next. It was once a beautiful plaster home but Katrina floodwaters swept through and chewed at the antique molding and spewed mold across the walls. The lady wants to keep all the molding and we’re trying to remove it carefully but we eventually had to call and tell her, “Hey, we’re not professionals. We can tear things apart. We’re not so good at dismanteling them.” I wanted to tell her things are moldy and rotten anyway. Start with a clean slate. I walked around the house and talked out loud… who would ever want to rebuild on this anyway? I wouldn’t put any money into reconstructing on this crap. Demo and start again.

And I hate to admit these words came out of my mouth because I like to play the part of the tree-hugger, landfill hater, reuse til it falls apart, recycle when it does kind of girl. But I’m tired. I can’t count how many homes I have dragged out to curbs. It was hard at first, but I’ve convinced myself all the debris goes somewhere and disappears. And God, it’s so much debris. I came across a news article the other day and maybe I should read it more often to get my mind back in order. It’s called, “Deconstructing for FEMA Dollars,” and it’s about how Portlanders are coming to teach New Orleaners how to recycle instead of throw everything away. I love you Portland.

http://www.wweek.com/editorial/3234/7709

I was thinking about all this today and how most of my volunteers down in St. Bernard would comment by the end of the week, “One thing I’ve learned is that I have way too much crap.” And I thought about how this winter I’m going home to Ohio and I’m getting rid of as much of my stuff as I can possibly part with. I also want to accumulate less... (check out this- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thecompact) It took a tragedy to teach me this but after throwing away lifetimes of accumulated garbage from these peoples’ homes, it becomes just that… garbage.

I thought about how this past year I’ve lived on little and it’s shown me how little I really need. All the rest is just garbage. We travel from project to project with nothing but a government issued duffel bag and our own backpacks. I’ve learned that it’s more than I’d ever need. I hope this lesson sticks with me, this lesson about “stuff.” Because I really do feel lighter without it, closer to things more important, closer to heaven where I’m told real treasures are kept.

the saints are back

2006-09-26T14:22:00.000-06:00

This is an incredibly long post that takes 3 days to read and I typed it cause I'm too tired to hand write this all in my journal.

Yesterday I found myself standing in a crowd of New Orleaners, the closest thing I think I'll ever experience to Mardi Gras. We were packed tight outside the Superdome. The people (not just the megafans) were all dressed in gold, black, and white. The skyscraper hotels surrounded us and the Superdome hovered over us and the Goo Goo Dolls sang an oddly fitting tonight's the night the world begins again... The sky was so clear for a New Orleans afternoon and planes flew by with advertisements. The crowd was so noisy, everyone chit chatting and cheering when the camaras flew over our heads. Ok, I'm not a New Orleaner, but in the past few months, I've grown attached. And I have to admit it was kind of emotional. It felt like a giant family reunion, people were meeting up with people and acting like they hadn't seen them for a year, and I think they might not have. Everyone was so extatic, waiting for the big sheet to drop from the front entry and the dome to officially reopen, like we were waiting for Christmas morning. It was so contagious. Even the Falcons fans were wild. And they were just chitchatting away with the Saints fans. Everyone was family. It truly was one of the greatest feelings. And I know I'm painting this scene all pretty and I'm not going into detail about the skyscraper office building to our right still vacant with the windows still blown out. And I wasn't forgetting good old St. Bernard where I spent a couple months... which is still mostly unlivable. I'm still on a high from the night the world saw New Orleans begin again.

Got up around 5:30 yesterday morning to get to the Good Morning America show. I was always one of those Today show people so I didn't really know who Robin Roberts was except for that I recognized her. We got to hang out with her for a couple hours. She is originally from the gulf and her home was also damaged in Katrina. She really seemed to be an amazing lady and she was hilarious... alittle too spunky for 6 am. She said goodmorning and introduced us to America. We stood there and smiled. It was pretty cool to watch the news going on in New York and then it would flip to us and hey, I'm on national television!

We hung out awhile on the field. People took naps and read. I just laid there and looked around, in shock. The Goo Goo Dolls walked past me. Important ESPN hosts I don't know walked past me. And word was that daddy George Bush was in the house somewhere. Woody Paige (who I also don't know) asked us to come over while he was making a fool of himself on ESPN. We just stood there and cheered whenever he'd turn around and tell us to cheer.

We practiced the pre-game show one last time and watched U2 and Greenday perform in our private little venue for the 6th time or so. I was still in major shock.

I went and sat on the player's benches on the sideline. Soon, a few men began doing laps around the field. We learned that these were the head coach and assistant coaches of the Falcons. And then the Saints players came out and practiced. I sat on their team bench and just a few feet down sat a sweaty, stinky professional football player. And Reggie Bush, who everyone thinks is God, sprinted by. More famous retired football players began standing around and the guys in our group began drooling. I began to assume anyone not in an Americorps uniform or carrying a camara was famous.

My friend Cara and I went to go stand in the mass of people to watch the concerts outside. We met Mr. Clean on the way back and got free tshirts. Could this day get any better?

Got inside just in time for the countdown to the official oppening. Everybody inside the dome paused from the work to watch the clock tick down and we all cheered like New Years and watched the big screen as confetti came down on all the people outside and a giant sheet dropped from the entryway welcoming everyone home. A military procession led the way through the doors and soon they were coming down to the field. They all stopped where we were standing and for a minute I felt like we were all in this together. Americorps was all standing in a line in respect and I realized some of us were wearing the same BDU pants... police, coast guard, army, marines, firemen whatever else... except when Governor Kathleen Blanco walked right by us and greeted all of them, my ego was shot just alittle. I don't know if she noticed the sea of grey standing just behind her, those people who have also been in her state, voluntarily, this entire time.

Before we knew it, it was show time. We gathered in the tunnel next to our pieces of the stage. I heard a bunch of commotion and people yelling to clear the way. I jumped to the side and some important men in suits pushed by me. And there he was... George HW Bush himself... The kid next to me quickly handed me his camara and told me to take a picture of him and Bush. I forgot to. Instead, I saw my right hand reach out and touch his jacket. It did it on its own. Instead of going in for a nice friendly handshake, I feel like I accosted our ex-president. I don't even remember his face. All I remember is how soft his blue jacket felt... like felt. I'm glad his little secret service guys didn't have an issue with me feeling him.

I got back to my position and decided to make small talk with one of the roadies, the one I thought was the Edge when I first saw him but then realized looked nothing like him. His name was Stewart Morgan. He was such a friendly guy. He told me he's been with U2 since 92 and was with Sinead (sp?) Oconner and some other huge bands before that. He spoke with a beautiful Irish accent and I got a kick out of this other guy who asked where he was from and then proceeded to ask, "so how long have you been in the states?" as if a major music group could not possibly still be making it big and keeping their roots in anything but the US. Stewart replied, "two days, actually." It turns out Stewart is somewhat of a legend because he is the only person to ever perform as a part of U2 and not be one of the original 4. There was one show where the bassist was hungover and Stewart had to fill in.

Our conversation was cutoff because it was go time. We quickly pushed those carts onto the field and I stepped back and looked up. Thousands of people were looking down on us. I stood in the middle of the fleur de li (however you spell it) symbol in the middle of the field and spun in a circle. The only chance I'll ever get to feel that kind of rush. Then I quickly found my position in front of the stage and enjoyed an incredible show with U2, Greenday, and the local band Rebirth blasting on us from all sides. Bono spit on me. Billie Joe threw his pick at us and almost hit me and I couldn't crouch down to pick it up off the ground before someone else pushed their way in. It was wild. Unbelievable.

After the show, we grabbed our spots and pushed the stage to the side as the Saints ran out of their tunnel. I stood just off to the side and watched as they ran past me. Then, it was over. I looked around one last time and then helped rush the stage back into the tunnel and out the doors of the Superdome.

We parked them next door in the arena and were told the gates were now closed to us. Find another way to watch the game. I saw some of my teammates and we began running straight back toward the door we came out of. We flashed our badges at suspicious faces but otherwise just looked like we knew exactly what we were doing.

Security, we just casually walked through. Though our badges said pre-game field crew only, they didn't notice. We took a quick turn down a back hallway where someone had scouted out earlier and found a stairway to the stands. We began stripping off our Americorps tshirts and had normal clothes underneath. And as I was doing this, a golf cart comes around the corner. It's daddy Bush again and he's whizzing past us as we're sneaking into a professional football game. We saluted him and I fluttered my fingers in an I'm so innocent sort of way. He smiled and waved. Wow, what tight security with a president right there…

We were told by some cops a few times to move from our standing positions because we couldn't find a single open seat in the house. We prepared our stories for why we didn’t have tickets. My job was just to smile and nod because I can’t lie. But then I realized this whole event was a lie, I just didn’t have to speak it. I felt alittle guilty. We moved around most of the first half and eventually found a spot for all the other people who snuck in. Everyone was so drunk and wild and the cops walked by at one point with a man in handcuffs and I figured that was my sign to get out of there, but everyone else stayed and I figured if they caught us, atleast I'd be a part of a fun mini riot. I couldn't believe what I was doing. I'm too innocent for this kind of stuff.

But, it was worth it. The game was incredible and the Saints won it, I believe fair and square. People will talk about it being rigged. I bet they weren't there. People will talk about the team being stacked full of handpicked people. I know nothing about football but what I saw was a team that belongs to an incredible city and no matter who they are, they were heroes to this town last night. It was so much more than just a football game and people might not agree, but the feel in this city says otherwise.

i think one of the best days of my life...

2006-09-24T21:55:00.000-06:00

I don't want to sound like one of those pathetic, awkward, stalking fans who go see their favorite bands perform and "stumble" (stalk) across the lead singer, shake his hand, and then proclaim "I just shook Bono's hand! And I'm not going to wash it ever again!"

But I really did shake Bono's hand today and I think my hand is actually turning into gold... and I don't think I'll wash it either.

The gold look is possibly half because of the bronzer that's in my lotion and part bruise that is beginning to spread across the palm of my right hand. And the bruise is pretty darn cool because it is from moving U2 and Greenday's stage all day across the field of the New Orleans Superdome. And when I saw my chance, I really did walk right up to Bono and say, "Can I... just... say hi to you?" I don't know what kind of question that is. "Hi," I said. And then I mumbled something stupid that he's heard a thousand times, "thankyou so much for what you do." And he looked at me with this pathetic pity (because I probably looked like I was about to cry) and shook my hand and said, "ah, honey." Bono called me honey. Atleast I think he did. I don't remember the whole scene very well.

So I spent an entire day "practicing" for the pregame show for Monday night football, New Orleans Saints vs. Atlanta Falcons. My job is to help move one of the big heavy stages out to the middle of the field, then stand there and pretend to be a wild, screaming teenager (which I might do quite well), and then wait for U2 and Greenday to get off the stage (they get off the stage right next to where I stand... I could lick one if I wanted to... but that might be really strange), and then help move the stage aside so the New Orleans Saints can rush onto the field (as they whiz right by me!). It's surreal. I just had one of the craziest days of my life.

I met Bono. I stood next to a tv crew interviewing Billie Joe from Greenday and The Edge for U2. I watched them perform this pregame show all day long as I casually layed across the 50 yard line, then strolled over to the players benches for awhile. A really nice lady came up to us and shouted "Americorps! We helped start you!" and then someone introduced her as Alexis, our Secretary of Labor under Clinton. She said "Bill was just down here." I think I heard daddy Bush is going to be here tomorrow. This funny little man that reminded me of Elton John pranced around in a tight black suit. He turned out to be the head of the whole show, one of the producers for Disney. He asked me to get off the teams bench. As we talked to the Secretary of Labor, we realized Harry Conick Jr. was standing behind us. Our leader for the day was telling some of us some stories of his favorite Super Bowl gigs and we just had to ask about Janet. He stood 10 feet away when the whole thing went down. Turns out, he has some really solid evidence that it truly was an accident. And he says 50 cent is really well spoken and P Diddy is a jerk.

I stole some pieces of rubber off the turf that are sitting next to my computer. I have no pictures cause we weren't allowed to take camaras. My turf is my only evidence of this amazing day. But if anyone happens to watch Good Morning America, we are scheduled to be on tomorrow morning, but it's still alittle up in the air. And if you watch the ESPN pregame show tomorrow night and you wonder why that stage just looks so centered and beautiful, and you see wild screaming fans at Bono and Billie Joe's feet, that's the only other evidence I got.

Denver, Colorado

2006-09-12T22:07:00.000-06:00

Friday morning, I packed my car with uneccesary junk (cause I could) and packed my one companion, a plant that I bought for my friend Jamie's housewarming gift. I didn't make it down to Colorado Springs to drop it off so I decided it needed to travel with me so I could water it. I saw that the tag said, "Bonsai," so I decided to name him Nephi the Bonsai (a nice Utah name). But then it was brought to my attention that this is not a bonsai but a Spider plant... so his name is "Nephi the Bonsai who doesn't realize he's not a bonsai" but I just called him Nephi and warned Jamie never to call him by his full name. I drove him around and posed him in places and took pictures of his travels that I gave to Jamie.

Took off on my week long roadtrip, hoping to pack it completely full... Drove to the Nevada border on day one and then on to San Francisco on day two. Stayed with my aunt and cousins in Pacifica for 3 days and then took off for Yosemite. Stayed in Bishop, CA. Saw Death Valley and stayed in Mesquite, NV with my friend Anthony. Drove into Zion the next day for a quick visit and stayed with my friends Jock and Robin and Hurricane that night. And drove the entire way from Hurricane to Denver on my last day. It was such a great trip and better than I'd imagined. It was weird traveling alone but I had a lot of time in silence and a lot of time singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. After spending $80 worth of gas on my last day, I've decided my roadtrips should be put on hold for awhile, until I start making money again. I'm addicted to adventure but I need to find a job that pays for it.

I'm in Park City, Kansas tonight on our way to our final Americorps project... in New Orleans again. When November comes I'll be done and looking for a job. And maybe I'll have enough money by then to have a fun roadtrip back to Ohio... anybody want to come along?

Great Salt Lake Desert, Utah

2006-09-12T22:01:00.000-06:00

Drove through the Great Salt Lake desert and it was AMAZING. Miles and miles and hours of white sand everywhere like snow.

"the coldest winter I ever spent..."

2006-09-12T21:54:00.000-06:00

... was a summer in San Francisco. I finally made it to San Fran and to my aunt Shirley and cousins Eunice and Lydia's house. I was FREEZING. I loved the city but I could never get used to the clouds and cold. (me and Nephi at Golden Gate park)

the Pacific

2006-09-12T21:46:00.000-06:00

I could walk to the beach from the house cause they live right off Hwy 1. Gorgeous views!

Yosemite National Park, California

2006-09-12T21:30:00.000-06:00

I drove down into the Yosemite Valley cause I hear that's the part you can't miss. Honestly, and maybe it's cause I'm partial, it reminded me of Zion without color... no rich red dirt between my toes. Anthony tells me if you're a climber you'd appreciate Yosemite better. What I did like, though, was that it truly felt like it was "our" park, as a National Park should feel. It didn't feel like federal land, it felt like my land... one giant backyard we all share. People were having picnics everywhere and family reunions and swimming in the Merced. It was so crowded but in a nice way. Maybe other seasons aren't like that, but I kind of liked it. I drove back out and across the Tioga pass and THAT was my favorite part of Yosemite. Incredible fields and lakes and enormous views from way up high. Here are some pics of the valley and the pass and another one of those "I'm traveling alone so I have to take these awful close up pics at arms length of my face and my giant neck."

Bishop, California

2006-09-12T21:24:00.000-06:00

I was driving into Bishop to stay for the night and I saw a bicyclist struggling up the hill I was driving down and then he stopped and just smiled. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw it too. I pulled off the highway and jumped out of my car and just sat on my bumper and stared. It looked like an upside-down waterfall was coming out of the Sierras. That's the only way I can describe it. They're pretty much the same picture but I loved these pics I took.

Manzanar "War Relocation Center," California

2006-09-12T21:12:00.000-06:00

I heard from a local that Manzanar was a must see. It's a Japanese internment camp from WWII that doesn't really exist much anymore, even though it's a national historic sight. There's a visitor center and they brought one mess hall back so we can see atleast one building as it stood in the 40s. The rest of the camp is just a collection of signs that you drive around and see where buildings once stood. I couldn't believe I hadn't known more about this. And though it's situated on a busy, tourist-traveled scenic highway between Yosemite and Death Valley, I was one of the few visitors there. Here's a picture of the Manzanar entrance, cemetary, and Camo net factory where the camp residents/prisoners? helped "contribute to the war effort." The video at the visitor center was incredible and all 7 of us in there I think cried.

Death Valley, California

2006-09-12T21:00:00.000-06:00

Drove through Death Valley... it was 116 degrees and I was too afraid to use my ac and overheat... so I didn't explore much. Instead of switchbacks, you drive down 4000 feet into the valley on a straight road that just dips enough to slow you down. It was an incredible sight. And the scenery changes with each elevation. It had rained the night before (the ranger said it was more like a hurricane) and power had gone out and the roads were covered with mud. Plows were out, plowing the mud off the road like snow in an Ohio winter. A lake had formed (or maybe it's always there?) just off the road and I had never expected to see so much water in Death Valley. Stopped at the Visitor Center long enough to watch the slideshow and then I was off.

Mesquite, Nevada

2006-09-12T20:37:00.000-06:00

Stopped in Mesquite where I attempted to go climbing with my friend Anthony and his friends Joe and Stacey. It stormed the night before, swelling the Virgin River and coloring the waters brown. It got pretty deep and swift in the middle and it took an hour and a half to cross the river so we could even get to the rock wall. They sent me down a zipline kind of thing (I don't know all that climber lingo), but the rope was "dynamic" (see me trying to talk like them?) and it dropped me right down into the water and I was inching across with the river swirling all around me. It was amazing! Anthony, who should not have been climing anyway due to a serious knee injury from falling from this same wall a couple weeks ago, was carried across the river anyway. So the whole zipline thing... I guess that was just for kicks.

MTV Todd

2006-08-23T07:58:00.000-06:00

So my phone rang last week... it was a number I didn't know and I didn't feel like answering it. But then I felt guilty so I called back...

A guy's voice answered, "Hello Juli."
"...hello?"
"This is Todd from MTV."
"Hello... Todd from MTV..."
"How are you doing?"
"Fine."
"How's the project coming?"
(I'm finally putting 2 and 2 together...)
"Oh, it's great. Almost done. I'm ready to be done. My body's exhausted. I'm exhausted. But it's been good work."
"That's really great to hear. Where are you from again Juli?"
(I think he's interested in me...)
"Ohio..."
"Where in Ohio, Juli?"
(oh maybe he wants to visit me...)
"Mansfield."
"How do you spell that Juli?"
(ah shoot, Todd from MTV wants me to spell Mansfield)
"M-A-N-S-F-I-E-L-D"
"And how old are you?"
"23"
"Cool. Thanks! Just want to let you know you are for sure going to be in our piece on MTV news... at this point. We still need to do revisions."

You know what that means? Tentatively, this FRIDAY, AUGUST 25th, St. Bernard Parish will be on MTV News (most likely a little 3 minute bit) and... you might see me making a fool of myself because I don't remember saying anything intelligent.

... so I saved that number... put it in my phone as "MTV Todd"... just so I can feel special that MTV called me.

... You know you would have done it too.

lil update

2006-08-12T19:46:00.000-06:00

I really don't usually have this much time to update like this and I don't know if a great number of people actually read my blogs anymore but I have too many stories to share that I can't keep to myself... and this is an example...

So my week began gracefully with my mercury spill. I brought a total of 5 emergency vehicles to good old camp hope from about 3:00 to 10:00 Monday night; 2 fire trucks, fire chief, the EPA, and a Hazmat crew. It was exciting.

Tuesday I am exhausted. I come back from work and shower and collapse on my bed. 10 minutes later my mom calls me. My credit card company called her. Someone's trying to steal my identity. They charged over $1000 worth of stuff on my card somehow. Don't know how they got my information but I think this means I should probably change my passwords online. I don't know what else they have access too if they got my card numbers. So I spent that night calling the company and some other place that investigates these things. It was fun.

Then... Thursday I'm at the work site and my team is doing an amazing job. I'm inside breaking down a door and using myself as a ramrod and I was really getting into it. (Little did I know there was an old piano wedged up behind it) And I hear someone calling my name outside the house. My team yells for me and I go out. And this tiny (I mean the most ridiculously tiny and lesser butt than I have) asian girl introduces herself to me as Sue Chin Pak from MTV news. I have no clue who this is. But she interviews me and apparently this is airing within the next two weeks. I'm not promising I'll be on it since it's only supposed to be a 3 minute piece. But, pretty exciting huh? And did I mention a few weeks ago I taught this up and coming musician Teddy Geiger and his band how to lay a roof? And then got free tickets to his show that night in downtown New Orleans. He was nice, though I didn't really talk to him much. I think he looks exactly like Harry Potter, but he doesn't wear those dark rimmed glasses in his shows. I guess it's too Harry Potterish. And that's probably a good decision on his part. I also didn't know who he was.

Ok, that's all I had to share. Some Australian news crew came into our house on Wednesday unannounced and we kicked them out for not introducing themselves.

good times with mercury

2006-08-09T16:22:00.000-06:00

So yesterday I made a nice name for myself here... As bus captains we're required to snip the little vile of mercury off the thermostats and drop it into a bottle of water. Well, we've been so fortunate the past couple weeks to have a buttload of FEMA water shipped to camp and it comes in cans (and tastes like, in my opinion, when an annoying little kid splashes around in a hotel hot tub and water gets on your lips... mmm... salty body sweat and chlorine...). So I did not have a bottle at the site and decided instead of bringing back a little vile of mercury that was bound to get lost or crushed, to bring the whole thermostat back. As I was getting ready to place the vile into a plastic bottle to take outside to our mercury bucket, it was knocked out of my hands and shattered at my feet. Mercury went everywhere. I was laughing hysterically... for some reason it was funny at the time. But as more people walked by and a couple of us were pushing it into a pile in the middle of the hallway, I kept hearing comments about how scary mercury was. And then someone looked it up online and found out it is in fact pretty scary despite my mom always telling me she played with it all the time when she was little.

I went to ask our firemen who are always on site what to do. They weren't there so we called. Soon we had two fire trucks in front of the building and my little area outside my room was entirely blocked off with yellow tape. People were mad cause they couldn't get to their rooms. The firemen were annoyed because now they had to follow some protocol and evacuate the area and call EPA when all they wanted to do was sweep it up and forget about it. Then they started hassling me about how I had to go through decontamination and stuff. The director of the camp was furious that we didn't tell him. Some big wig army guy that oversees this whole operation showed up and they pointed me out to him... "she's the culprit..." Some dirty firemen began making crude comments to me about having to strip down there and take a chemical shower. I had to get out of this place.

So I went to get some pizza with some people. And as we were leaving, the director of the camp called. "The EPA is here. They need you to come back immediately so they can write up a report and get you decontaminated." I came back and they were taking pictures of the scene. More of the building had been blocked off. Everyone was standing around, tapping their feet, giving me dagger eyes (ok, not really... I might have been dreaming that part up). And they pulled me aside and asked me a bunch of questions. Apparently the EPA does not understand what a thermostat is because they didn't understand how much mercury there was. I even knew that. It's just a drop!

A haz-mat team pulled up and suited up in big yellow tyvec suits and masks and headed in. After a long time of chin-rubbing and "hmms" they decided to get a special vacuum that apparently sucks up the mercury. They sucked it up but the big scare was what was still in the air. So they had this little machine that tests the air quality and it was still too dangerous to enter. (The crew leader for EPA was quoted as saying "I'm not risking my mens lives to send them in there!")

So they took my clothes... and my teva sandals I was wearing at the time. They put them all in special bags and put a machine up to them to test the mercury levels. They were all 2 times the safety reading so they asked if I was really attached. I said yes. We only get a couple pairs of shirts and shorts and I have to wear them every day for work and get them sweaty and smelly. And my tevas... well, they're my tevas and yes I'm attached.

They took my information and told me they'd call me back to let me know if the decontamination process worked out with my clothes. Otherwise, they will have to be disposed of. Finally around 10:30 or so we were allowed back into our rooms and all the doors were left open all night and day to air the place out.

Didn't sleep at all last night cause I kept having these little anxiety moments where I was sure I was going to die now of mercury. And I never would have worried except for the stinking EPA stressed me out so much and took my clothes. So bus captains are no longer allowed to handle mercury. We have to leave it for hazmat at the site. People are now getting trained about mercury. The big wigs are having meetings about it all. Everyone important is asking "Why the hell did that bus captain have mercury in the building?!!" And I'm thinking why do we always have to find blame in someone? It was an accident! We'll move on. And I'll just go crazy by the time I reach 30.

cemetary

2006-07-29T13:36:00.000-06:00

photo tour

2006-07-29T13:01:00.000-06:00

volunteers?

2006-07-29T11:26:00.000-06:00

www.camphopeonline.com

'nallins (or 'nawlins... you pick)

2006-07-29T09:50:00.000-06:00

Woke up this morning to sheets of rain pouring down on the metal roof. It never rains alittle in New Orleans. The first time I saw it rain I was terrified. I was sure the whole place was going to flood. It doesn't seem the sewage system has been entirely cleared yet because when it rains the streets do flood here in St. Bernard Parish. I moved my bags away from the wall, just in case it would come in. I live in a gutted elementary school in Violet, LA. When we first arrived, rooms were mostly separated by a tarp. Since then, they've hung sheetrock, but the ceiling's not finished yet so it doesn't reach the roof and the place can get really noisy... especially when it rains in sheets. Sounds like it's all going to come down on me.

Last night I walked Bourbon and Decatur streets with some new friends. I absolutely love downtown New Orleans. Bourbon street can get pretty dirty and crazy at night, but the bars are amazing. Last night we ate dinner at an old bar where I finaly tried the Muffaletta (apparently an important bit of NO cuisine). Then we walked to Preservation Hall where we watched a 6 man band perform in this tiny, dark, hot room that looks untouched since the early 1900s. They played Just a Closer Walk with Thee, which is often a funeral song down here that starts out slow and speeds up when the funeral's over and they're dancing down the streets. They played their signature "When the Saints" where everybody sang along. And they played an old slow jazz song where the sax player "Stackman" stood up and mumbled some crazy lyrics and puffed on his horn in a way I only imagined I'd ever see in New Orleans. It's just as I ever expected it. The culture is so rich. You walk down the street and live jazz music flows from each door and meets in the middle where sweaty bodies meander from bar to bar. And it doesn't feel like they have some rich history they're constantly trying to recreate for tourism... the history's now and they're just continuing their way of life... full of jazz, drinks, and some of the craziest art I've ever seen. A couple weekends ago, I went to Pat Obrien's where we sat at an old piano bar where two pianos face each other, beer steins hang from the ceiling, and waiters dressed penguin-style with bowties and a cloth hanging from their forearm carrying small trays squeeze through the tables and take your order. You get to request songs and they honestly play everything. Two times in the same night, someone requested "Hang On Sloopy" and the whole bar broke into O-H-I-O. I was so excited! But only a few of us were doing the hand motions.

So not all of 'nallins is on Bourbon street. The reason why I'm here is we are working with the St. Bernard Parish government to "muck out" houses. A typical day begins at 5:30... wake up, eat breakfast (which depends on what was donated this week... sometimes breakfast is alittle lacking), get dressed and pack my bag. The first two weeks, I would travel with teammates from Americorps and we'd all just work on a house together, but this past week we had over 300 people here at Camp Hope so I was assigned to be a "bus captain." Basically, I still gutted houses, but had to carry a radio and make judgment calls that I'm probably not that comfortable to make. My team was from all over the US and Canada, people who heard about this opportunity and made arrangements to get down here and are committing 1-2 weeks to rebuilding St. Bernard Parish. I get on a school bus with my team and the bus drops us off at our assignment for the day. We start work early before it gets too hot and end around 1:30.

I have to go into the home first with the team leader and we bang around with pitchforks and crowbars and scare any snakes and rats away (since most of these homes have not been entered since the hurricane). We go to each room and open all the windows and try to get some air circulating. The house we started Thursday was pitch black in most places. The homeowner obviously tried to board it up before the hurricane and then pulled heavy curtains over the windows. We couldn't see anything so we ended up opening most windows from the outside with a crowbar. You walk into these homes and all the furniture and nic-nacs are swirled around all over the place. Couches and mattresses against doors, china cabinets on their sides with broken glass strewn about the room, overturned kitchen tables, a stuffed animal eerily stuck to the ceiling... You never know what you'll find. Somehow I usually find the mice families, as I pick up a dresser drawer that just falls apart in my fingers and 6 little mice scurry out of my hands. Brown recluse spiders everywhere because this is their haven. We've only seen one snake but he was pretty decent-sized. He liked the dark, quiet house too (and my team cut his head off with a shovel despite my "I'll hate you forever if you kill him!!! Let him get away!!!").

One little piece at a time (you have to be patient and enduring), we carry everything to the curb. We clear the entire home out, salvaging as much as we can. Usually the salvage pile is just glasses that stayed in the kitchen cupboards and some mirrors. Photos hardly ever make it, but when you find one, it's a treasure. Can't save anything porous so even if a stuffed animal or a quilt or embroidery look old and meaningful to someone, you can't save them. Everything's covered with black mold. After we clear a room, we take down the drywall, which just crumbles in your fingers. Take down the ceiling (if it didn't fall down already) and all the fixtures. Within 1-3 days, the house is nothing but a foundation with 2x4 framework and a roof.

I have been able to meet many of the homeowners, which is unique because many people just left town and don't plan on returning. It's ranged from Tim, who came and actually worked with us and threw away everything we salvaged for him (I did see him take a lot of smoke breaks on his front porch, though, just staring with glassy eyes at his life on the curb...), to Kathleen who looked so disoriented as she walked in the front doorway and looked at me and said, "this was my home," and began sobbing. I took her outside and showed her the salvage pile and I took off my hat and facemask and started crying with her as she picked up a couple of her grandmother's rings and put them on her fingers and tried to open her grandfather's old doctor bag that had sealed shut. An old framed diploma made it through almost perfectly and she held it and cried.

It's such an emotional and physical roller coaster down here. It's not like anything you've seen on the news. They show you 'nallins and all the life that's back in there and the jazz and the pretty people with smiles on their faces and the colorful homes all rebuilt... No one shows you St. Bernard Parish and the fact that no home, rich or poor, was spared; that the levees broke right here and knocked whole homes right off their foundations, dropped a giant shrimp boat in a neighborhood that no one claims now, placed refrigerators and mattresses on rooftops, and claimed lives marked with a big X and a 1 underneath it spray painted on every single house and business. Dead dogs still rot inside homes and my friend had to scrape a carcass that was just bones and some fur off a front porch on a home she worked on yesterday. You can smell a house that still has a dead animal inside. It's actually worse than the smell of a rotting fridge, which is one of the most foulest smells ever imaginable. Black ooze leaks out of the fridge as you carry it out to the curb and washing machines still full of what's called "Katrina water" spill out all over your clothes.

If you thought 'nallins was back, please look into St. Bernard Parish or Waveland, MS. These are two places where the stories are almost forgotten by US media. The anniversary's coming up so maybe they'll finally take a look our way. But they probably won't. So I'll try to keep this updated with photos and stories. Some pretty incredible stories I have to share already, but this post is too long as usual.

Roadtrip

2006-07-19T20:10:00.000-06:00

Didn't think we'd cram it all in (plus ourselves), but Scrappy pulled through and was spacious and gracious enough for our travels to begin... just not real comfortably.

Arches, our first stop

2006-07-19T20:05:00.000-06:00

2006-07-19T20:01:00.000-06:00

Bryce Canyon

2006-07-19T19:55:00.000-06:00

(we're pretending to be hoodoos)

2006-07-19T19:50:00.000-06:00