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Dutch nesting posts

Nesting posts are very easy to monitor; they have been used successfully in the Netherlands since 1999 [1].
They are built with aligned vertical posts of decayed oak wood. The posts are about 1 meter long, 20 cm thick, and buried to a depth of 80 cm, close to each other. See drawings below.

Nesting posts drawings by Paul Hendriks, March 2006 Elevation and plan views of the nesting posts by Paul Hendriks, March 2006

Drawings of the nesting posts by Paul Hendriks, March 2006.

For monitoring them all that is needed is to dig a ring around the posts, area a, about 60 cm deep, and by hand carefully scrape the soil around the wood, area b.
This must not be done from June to September in order not to disturb the pupation stage.

Another great advantage of these nests, apart from the easy monitoring, is that they can be installed in all kinds of places without great difficulty due to their slenderness.
See below photos of a nest in a builders yard, behind the kitchen sink, on the point of being monitored by Paul Hendriks, holding a fork.

Nesting posts in a builders yard,  11-6-2004. Photo by Bert van Geel. Nesting posts being monitored in a builders yard, 11-6-2004. Photo by Bert van Geel.

Photos by Bert van Geel, 11 June 2004.

During early February 1999 a total of 4 nesting posts were installed in a couple of stag beetle areas, Vierhouten and Hoog Soeren, two in the sun and two in the shade, and all of them have been successful; that is, soon all have had larvae feeding in them.
More importantly, in one of these, the first stag beetles were found since the posts were installed: seven perfect imagos, in November 2002. This shows that eggs were laid in the first season in which the post were set-up, and that the larval development took three years. [1]

This way, for the first time, the life cycle of the stag beetle has been ascertained in the wild: four years in the Netherlands. This is a very important result.

See photo below of the posts carefully exposed, showing advanced white rot and some stag beetle larvae.

Nesting posts dug up for monitoring, 11-06-2004. Photo by Paul Hendriks.

Photo by Paul Hendriks, 11 June 2004.

Let's install some more of these Dutch nesting posts in stag beetle areas, and seriously monitor them. This way we could get a better understanding of how long really is the life cycle of a stag beetle, and how much it depends on the type of wood used and other factors.
We are all very grateful to Paul Hendriks for sharing his results with us.

[1] Broedstoven voor vliegende herten - Breeding sites for stag beetles, by John T Smit & Paul Hendriks, 2005.
Contact: Maria Fremlin
Last modified: Wed Feb 10 2016

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Tuesday, November 1, 2011

COTT Rages on! Here's the latest...

*Guest post by Michelle Massaro

Week THREE of COTT's Tournament of Champions saw four more authors compete and three more scavenger hunts played.

Here's a recap:

On Monday, players were sent to Elaine Cooper's Blog with a mission: Find the full name of the girl Nathaniel Stearns falls in love with in the book trailer video on her home page. Renee C won a $10 Amazon gift card from Marianne Evans, author of Hearts Crossing.

Tuesday, the hunt was on at Shellie Neumeier's Blog. The question: What is the name of the book Shellie co-wrote with Lisa Lickel? Tammy G won a $10 Amazon gift card from April Gardner, author of Wounded Spirits.

Wednesday we were led to Naomi Musch's Blog. The question: In her new release, The Red Fury, Colette's daughter Lainey is seeking solace from tragic loss and two searing rejections by doing what 2 things? B.J. Robinson won a $10 CBD gift card donated by Ann Gaylia O'Barr, author of Singing in Babylon.

Want your own spending spree? Be sure to play in this week's hunts. Check Clash of the Titles for game info.

And what about the competing books? Who won?

Karen Witemeyer's A Tailor-Made Bride and Lena Nelson Dooley's Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico battled on Monday. A Tailor-Made Bride came out the winner.
Christine Lindsay's Shadowed in Silk and Naomi Musch's The Green Veil struck swords on Wednesday. The Green Veil took the top spot.

These two victorious titles competed together on Friday to determine which would move on to the finals for a chance to win the Laurel Award. And that finalist is...

Karen Witemeyer's A Tailor-Made Bride!

There are now three finalists vying for the ultimate COTT honor. In this final week they'll be joined by a fourth book, then all will be thrown into the ring until only ONE remains. Who will it be? It's up to readers to decide, so cast your votes!

The Laurel will be awarded on November 4th, along with the 15-book grand prize that will be given to one lucky reader. Want a shot at it? You can enter by sharing links, putting up buttons and banners on your blog, becoming a follower of COTT, etc. Details on the prize basket and full instructions on how to enter can be found here. To make it easy to grab n go, here are the banner and button codes (just don't forget to let them know if you put them up!)

Clash of The Titles

Here's the button code:

* Michelle Massaro is the Assistant Editor for COTT. Find her on twitter @MLMassaro, Facebook, and Adventures In Writing.

  1. I am watching this so closely!! praying for all of you

  2. THANKS, Jewels 67!!! You're awesome. :-) God's light and love to you!!! <3

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Saturday, January 31, 2009

Local Remedy

"I feel GREAT today!" J, a young woman on the Bolivia trip, had been bouncing off the walls one morning as our group got into three taxis.

"Caffeine," I stated.

"Oh." She looked deflated.

J and I had both gotten pills for altitude sickness from the farmacia the day before. She'd taken hers in preparation for going to altitude, but I'd decided to tough it out and hope for the best.

I'd looked up the Spanish for "altitude sickness" and we'd gone to the pharmacy.

"Take this," said the pharmacist, handing us "Sorojchi" pills. We'd both dutifully purchased some. But a little Internet research turned up info that they were just aspirin and caffeine. So I'd skipped it.

And when we got to Potosi, I was glad I skipped it. I'd felt pretty good at altitude this time. Seems taking the bus instead of the plane did the job.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Meanwhile, Back in the States

It's that egg cream store on Avenue A. What? Obama Fries? Obama Cheeseburgers?

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Souvenir Show

In Bolivia, you can buy knitted finger puppets by the ton.

And then you can put on a puppet show, even if your Spanish sucks as much as mine does. I made one that goes like this:

L: "¿Cómo se llama?"

S: "Mi llamo es El Hombre Araña. ¿Cómo se llama?"

L: "Mi llamo es Llama!"

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Pros of Waterworks

My flight from Lima to Miami (connecting through to LaGuardia) left at 11:40 p.m. on a Monday night.

And though a nine-hour layover in the Lima airport didn't sound like fun, I had carefully booked my flight out of Cuzco for 1 p.m.

Because Cuzco is high in the mountains, and when there is bad weather, there are no flights. So I wanted to make sure I had plenty of chances to get to Lima in case my 1 p.m. flight was cancelled.

But the weather was perfect and my flight landed in Lima on schedule at 2:20 p.m. I had to pay for luggage storage. It was too early to check in. "You cannot check in until three hours before your flight."

Which I tried to do later, but somehow the entire planeload of passengers had managed to get there first. I hadn't rushed. By then I'd checked online and knew the flight had been delayed to 4:40 a.m. Ick.

I asked the security officials and the line managers. "How can I talk to an agent? I want to see if I can get transferred to the LAN direct flight at 11:50 tonight. It goes direct to JFK." I was on a frequent flyer ticket. It was theoretically possible to do this without paying anything.

"Wait in this line."

"This line will take hours. By the time I get to the front of the line, the other flight will be gone."

"It will take an hour."

It didn't take an hour. Two-and-a-half hours later I was still asking officials to help me. They were still telling me to wait in line.

American's office was closed. Their phone number reached only a recording. I pulled out my laptop and emailed friends. Was anyone online who could call American and get me onto the other flight?

Finally, Steve B showed up. He called American and got me on the LAN flight. "It's about to close! Run! Run!"

I ran, dodging baggage carts and those men who wrap luggage in giant swaths of plastic wrap. (Why? People are weird.)

And I raced to the LAN desk.

"The flight is closed."

"Please. What can we do? Is there any way?"

"Please. I have waiting for hours for a flight that is now leaving at 5:50 a.m. PLEASE."

I tried to cry but the tears didn't come. Yet.

I trudged back down the departures level of the Lima airport. Now I had a problem. Now I had no reservation for any flight to New York.

That pleased me for a moment. I had enjoyed my time in Bolivia and Peru and waiting for me at home was snow, ice, and moving an office across town. Plus my ears were stuffed up. Badly. I couldn't seem to equalize after being on the plane from Cuzco.

But I had to teach on Wednesday night. I could not stay in South America. I had to get home.

The line that I'd jumped out of was still about an hour long. And I had no reservation for any flight.

"Steve, are you there?"

"Can you help me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Can you call back American Airlines and get me on ANY flight? Anything to the US?"

"You're on the 7:35 a.m. flight."

I waited in line, desperate to get rid of my bag. But even as I waited, I knew they would refuse to take it until 4:35 a.m. Three hours before.

Finally, I was at the counter.

"It is too early. Come back three hours before."

"No. No. You don't understand. You have to take my bag. I cannot carry it around the airport anymore. I have been here since 2 this afternoon and I CAN'T CARRY IT AROUND ANYMORE. I don't have any money for the baggage storage. Please, just take my bag. I'll come back later, but please check my bag."

The attendant looked at me with a little fear. Clearly, she had a crazy woman on her hands.

"I was on this flight, but then I got moved to LAN, but that was closed so just put me back on this flight then."

"No, this flight is full."

"Please. Do you have a supervisor?"

She got her supervisor, explained something tersely to her. The supervisor said I could switch to the earlier flight for $400.

"No, no, I don't care which flight. But please, can't you check my bag?"

I was delirious by now. I could have gone to the ATM and gotten out more Peruvian money and checked the bag, but I couldn't face it.

"Please, just take my bag. I was on the flight, and then I went to LAN, and now I am on the other flight..."

She glared at me and told me to come back three hours before, and this time, I didn't have to pretend to cry. I choked up and went silent, desperately trying to regain my composure.

And everything changed.

"Take a minute. Shhh... calm down. Explain slowly. Would you like a hotel?"

And with that, she checked my bag and gave me a voucher for the Radisson just across the driveway. I checked in, got my free meal that came with the voucher, went online and chose my seat for the flight. Then at 4 a.m., I ran down and got my boarding pass, went back to my room and showered, then strolled onto the 7:35 a.m. flight.

Which left on time.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Llama Crossing

The roads of Bolivia are fraught with peril.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Puno Parade

Here's a parade I stumbled over in Puno. It was practice for a later festival, and it looked like maybe they needed a little more practice. Some of the revelers looked bored out of their minds.

I'm still looking for a good way to add video to a blog. I tried using the blogger video function--bleh! Then I tried publishing directly from iMovie to YouTube, and it still looked lousy, so now I'm trying to embed a Flash player. Have a look.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Cuzco Now and Then

I scoured the southern edge of Cuzco's Plaza de Armas. My travel agent, Luzma Tours, had been right there in 1994 when I'd last been to Cuzco.

It was hopeless, I knew. The agent had probably changed careers years ago or given up on what must have become high-priced rent after a while.

But I'd try to find her. I owed her a big "Thanks." I hadn't spoken to her since she'd set up my plane transfer from Puerto Maldonado to Lima, one autumn day 15 years ago.

I've been a travel novice the last time I'd been to Cuzco. I'd checked in a few days earlier for my flight from Cuzco to Puerto Maldonado. I'd sat at the gate, oblivious to the Spanish-language announcements around me. When my flight left late, I thought nothing of it until I got to the gate.

"Puerto Maldonado? Your flight is up there!" The gate agent pointed at a plane in the sky. I still remember her wide eyes, her annoyed face. The gate had changed, I hadn't heard the announcement (in Spanish, which now I'd understand) and I'd missed my flight.

Sheepishly, I took a taxi to see Luzma.

"You'll have to go tomorrow. But there's no way to get back the following day and then to connect through to Lima. Unless..."

She'd made some calls and decided that I would transfer from the Puerto Maldonado to Lima flight ON THE CUZCO RUNWAY. I doubt you could even do something like that now.

A few days later, after visiting Explorers Inn, I stepped off the plane from Puerto Maldonado. I saw another plane. Uncertainly, I walked towards it. This was highly unusual. Had Luzma made it happen?

I looked towards the terminal. A short woman was waving frantically at me. Luzma! She caught my eye then gestured wildly. RUN, RUN, I could see her mouthing.

I ran to the other plane, laughing. A uniformed airline employee handed me my boarding pass at the stairs. Luzma had pulled it off and I was on my way to Lima.

She hadn't had a website or e-mail back then and we'd done our business by fax. I sent her a card when I got home to New York, but had no way of knowing if it had ever gotten there.

I still don't know.

Today, I spent my Sunday wandering the streets of Cuzco, now highly commercialized. The video arcade where I'd played pinball one hot afternoon was gone, I think replaced by a McDonald's. Govinda was still there, and my hotel where I'd laid in bed sick from the altitude and feeling my first earthquake was still there, but remodeled now into a 4-star establishment.

Cuzco is still a historic city, still the gateway for expeditions to Machu Picchu. But it's changed. The entire town, I think, has been renovated.

"Perhaps," I thought as I eyeballed the alpaca sweater prices in high-end boutiques on the main square, "I should have done my souvenir shopping back in La Paz."

Friday, January 23, 2009

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Signs of Cuzco

I'd asked my Puno hotel front desk to book me an airport taxi for 6:30 a.m.

At six, I went downstairs to breakfast. There was no one in the lobby and the breakfast man was busy getting the food ready. I went back upstairs and got my bag. I returned and poked my head in the kitchen.

The man didn't speak English, but he spoke coffee. He motioned me to sit down and wait.

I kept an eye on the front desk. Still no one. At 20 past, I gave up on the coffee and sat in the lobby drumming my fingers and wondering where the front desk clerk was. I needed to check out. The kitchen man watched nervously. He could see I was in a hurry.

The front desk clerk strolled in at 6:30. The kitchen guy gave her a bawling out. She was late and a tourist needed to check out.

I paid and asked where my taxi was.

"You want a taxi?"

"YES. I ordered one last night."

She shuffled papers and looked around and then called the taxi company.

"We can get one there at 7."

I started snarling at her.

"NOT okay. My flight is at 8. I need a taxi NOW, not at 7. NOW." (I had already checked in on-line, so was already cutting it closer than usual.)

She was flustered and started calling around. The kitchen guy gave her a look of disgust, walked out the front door, and stopped an empty taxi.

I was off to Cuzco. And when I got off the plane, the first thing I saw was a sign for oxygen. Cuzco is at altitude, but I don't know that a bottle of oxygen is required.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Traditional Songs on Lake Titicaca

If you have a computer that can handle watching QuickTime movies, click here for a .mov look at these women singing, er, traditional songs on Lake Titicaca, Peru.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Revenge of the Purple Candy

I made it to my hotel in Puno before my body gave up and quit fighting off Montezuma's Revenge. I sucked on two purple hard candies that I'd found in the room.

Those didn't stay down either. Ewwww.

I lay on the bed and groaned for a while, then weakly pried open my laptop and looked up what medication I needed. I dragged my sorry ass down to the nearest pharmacy for 10 400 mg doses of Noroflaxacin. I had a day-and-a-half in Puno. There wasn't time for this shit.

Ahem. Anyway, a few hours later I booked a boat trip for the morning and went to sleep.

In the morning, I went out on a boat with a guide and some other tourists to see the Floating Islands of the Uros people. These islands are actually manmade, of dirt and totora reeds. Small communities live on each island in reed huts.

These days, their livelihood is tourism. The tourists and guides pay a per-head fee to the islanders, who show how they dress and live and then sometimes, the tourists pay for boat rides on reed boats. In my case, another tourist that I was sitting with in a hut bought a tapestry and a mini-reed-boat. She got great souvenirs and the sellers then left me alone to take photos.

We rode on the reed boat, motored on over to Taquile Island (a 7-square-kilometer real island, made of rocks and stuff), and took a hike. Up, up, up to the village at the top, where the men wear floppy nightcaps, like a Catalan caganer shepherd.

Then down, down, down. 500 steps.

500 very steep steps.

And when we got back to Puno, I went to find Hey-There. "If I walk the main street," I thought, "I'll find someone I know."

It took only pacing back and forth twice to stumble over Julia from the GAP trip. She sent me off to Hey-There's hotel, where we said our goodbyes. Hey-There had been asleep when I'd left La Paz.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?"

I told Hey-There she wouldn't. I was heading to Cuzco in the morning.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Leaving La Paz

But I like these people. I don't want to leave them.

I was standing on a landing in Hotel Rosario in La Paz, having just left the group of 8 others that I'd spent the last few weeks with. Three were off on their own plans for the jungle in the morning, two separately bound for Chile, and three continuing on with a different GAP leader bound for Peru.

Strange, no? I am not usually so keen on strangers, mistrusting them for ages before I decide that they are all right.

But I had a bus ticket for Peru for eight the next morning. Hey-There grunted when I tried to wake her. Never mind. I'd find her tomorrow night in Puno when she caught up to me.

The bus goes to Copabacana, where I was to transfer to a bus that would take me across the border to Peru.

Two items of interest occurred on the bus trip: 1) I felt tummy grumblings and realized I had Montezuma's Revenge. It took all my self-control not to vomit on the bus journey. 2) The bus crossed Lake Titicaca on a rickety ferry. Really! Take a look at the video below. Scary stuff. Wonder what Captain Sully would make of this.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Losing It

Hey-There, my 62-year-old roommate, had lost it. She was chattering away, narrating the Dolph Lundgren movie on the railway station TV with her own script. Meanwhile, AF—a biologist from the mines outside Perth—dove under the table and napped on his coat. I played pool with our merchant marines and kept my distance from our group, which had lost its collective mind a few hours prior.

The train, which had already been leaving in the middle of the night, was running late. After three days in the desert, we'd all showered in Hotel Samay Wasi back in Uyuni, gorged ourselves on Tonito pizza, and headed to the overnight train-bus to La Paz.

And so we waited.

And waited some more.

The slight air of respectability our group had acquired post-showers started to wear thin. We slobbered and jabbered.

I'm exaggerating. But only about the slobber.

The train finally rolled in so late that I no longer recall the time. We piled into the reclining seats and Hey-There continuing to chatter until a stranger shushed her.

We were on our way back to La Paz.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Day Three: Southwest Circuit

Delirium had set in last night over dinner, with certain group members giggling far too much (um, me, maybe) over jokes that probably weren't really that funny.

That's what happens when you pack nine people into two Land Cruisers and drive them out into the desert for three days.

I woke up early and was initially startled by the pyramid of empty beer cans in the common area of the salt hotel. I smiled. Our boys had been up late, then.

Today was salt flat day. We'd get to the reason we'd come to southwestern Bolivia.

Lonely Planet Bolivia said it well, so let's just borrow from them:
"One of the world's most evocative and eerie sights, this, the world's largest salt flat (12,106 sq km) sits at 3653m... When the surface is dry, the salar is a blinding white expanse of the greatest nothing imaginable."

They pull the salt of the earth out of the ground here and sell it for human and livestock consumption. It's funny that Bolivia is such a poor country when it has so many natural resources, including silver, salt, gas, and uh, sweaters.

We cruised the plains of salt, stopping for perspective photos, some of which worked and some of which didn't. We pulled into Uyuni in late afternoon, salivating over the thought of pizza and showers.

More photos here.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Day Two: Southwest Circuit

I couldn't hack it. I was weak.

At 4:30 a.m., I dressed in the dark since Hey-There, Paul, and I were in a dual-gender room in the crappy hostel by the Laguna Colorado. "Can I turn the light on now," said Paul after a while.

I went into the two-stall bathroom and undid my belt, but I almost vomited from the smell. There were probably about 25 people staying in the hostel, and 25 people make a helluva dreadful smell when they are all tossing their used toilet paper into a wastebasket in the dark. I fled. I hadn't been drinking much as I was consciously trying to avoid the rank stalls.

We were all wearing multiple layers of clothes as we piled into the two Land Cruisers in the dark and headed to the Sol de Mañana Geyser Basin.

The crowds at the geysers confused me. We were in the middle of nowhere, Bolivia, at the crack of dawn. What was with all the people?

Quietly, Paul explained it. The cold of the morning made the steam more dramatic. In the afternoon, all the geysers looked like bubbling mud. So all the tour operators arrived at the same time.

Tourists were leaping across steam vents and peering over the edges, ignoring the "Danger" sign. One of our women nearly slipped into one, giggled, and was then surprised to hear it could be dangerous.

'It's boiling water," muttered someone. It might have been me.

We headed to some thermal springs for clean pit toilets and breakfast. Again with the crowds. We'd all been interested in the springs until we saw the dozens of people crowded into the pool. James the engineer made a joke about "short and curlies" at the bottom of the pool and my thoughts about it being a petri dish of shared illnesses sealed the deal. I wasn't going near the thermal bath, no matter how dirty I felt.

We drove past lovely, rugged panoramas, a volcano, and colorful mountains. In the evening, we stopped at a new hotel, the Hostal Solar Botana in San Juan. The building was made of salt blocks, clean, relatively modern, and best of all, had a hot shower and towels available for 10 bolivianos a go.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Day One: Southwest Circuit

Most tourists to Bolivia end up on the Southwest Circuit sooner or later.

It's a 3-day 4WD trip through a national park and the massive salt flats near Uyuni.

We left Uyuni and did the trip in reverse, beginning with a long drive to the red lagoon and finishing at the salt flats on Day Three. A cook and two drivers took us out into the rugged landscape, towards the Chilean border.

We'd stop at small roadhouses for lunch, and along the way, we'd pull over and investigate interesting sights. The first night, we stayed in a crowded, dirty hostel with foul-smelling toilets. There's not a lot of choice out in the boonies. Hey-There and I shared a triple with the boss, trip leader Paul.

Our day's drive went kind of like this:

We stopped to see rocks.

And for funny rabbity things.

And finally for the Laguna Colorado.

More photos here.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

The Way to a Woman's Heart

About 7 years ago, I was walking south on Manhattan's Orchard Street. An older man passed me, walking north. He eyeballed me.

"You still got it."

Aghast, I'd thought I wasn't aware I'd lost it. Talk about a backhanded compliment. At 35, I wasn't exactly sagging around the edges.

Today, seven years later, his comment might be appropriate. In the 9-person group I was in Bolivia with, I felt more an outsider than an active participant. I'd been on a half-dozen small group expeditions in the past, but on the other trips, I'd been of the median age. Now I was the only one in my age group.

The two younger women primped and vamped and made themselves up at night for dinner (our men were oblivious). I watched them with a little envy but mostly with relief. Let them put on the show. I wasn't here to flirt. I didn't feel any pressure to perform or even to shower. But I like to stay clean so I showered when I could, like on the last morning in Uyuni before we were to go into the salt flats for three days.

Hair still sopping wet, I got into one of the two Land Cruisers. After we left Uyuni and stopped by the train cemetery, we headed towards the Eduardo Avaroa National Reserve, home of salt flats, lagoons, and pink flamingos.

An hour or so's drive into the trip, we stopped off in the small town of San Cristobal for a potty break. The other women and I trotted into the mercado and lined up outside the public toilet, near an unusually tall, handsome Bolivian man who was chatting with his friends.

A small boy attendant held out some toilet paper to me and said "Uno Boliviano." The fee for the toilet was one coin.

I reached into my jeans pocket.

I checked my other pockets. I had nothing but large bills. No one ever has change in the unindustrialized world. I blanched... I didn't have the money to enter the ladies room.

The handsome Bolivian man then stepped in. He gallantly forked over one of his own coins, smiled, and waved me into the ladies room.

I reddened and walked in, as my group and a few Bolivians tittered behind me. Better than a drink, a man had bought me a pee.

I still got it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

El Tren Muerto

Rusting, abandoned machinery is disquieting, but that awareness did not prepare me for our morning visit to the Cementerio de Trenes.

Three kilometers away from Uyuni there is a train graveyard, full of once-functional machinery that has been left to the desert. A bit further on are even more locomotives, including an ore train once robbed by Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, as well as Bolivia's first steam engine. Bolivia is now the poorest country in South America, but it once buzzed with the profits from silver mining.

I quietly kept an eye on the engineer in our group. He loves machines; what would he make of this desolate setting?

The same thing the rest of us made of it as it turned out.

"That's really sad."

Monday, January 12, 2009

Going Local

We caught a local bus from Potosi to Uyuni, a 7-hour slog across winding dirt switchbacks. I sat with Hey-There in the front, next to two very tall, very scrunched-up men from our group of nine.

We drove.

And drove.

And drove.

Once, we were allowed off the bus to pee in the dirt behind a pig sty next to a restaurant. Though "restaurant" may be too broad a term to use for the concrete block alongside the road. We stopped other times to pick up passengers or let them off, and once for the bus crew to pick plants, but no other potty stops occurred. I'd been careful about my liquid intake being used to this sort of trip, but the plant-picking bit was as new to me as it was to the others in our small group.

Finally, we pulled into the dusty town of Uyuni, its frontier-feel obscuring the friendliness we'd encounter later when all of us went out for the best pizza in Bolivia, when I went to the market for a fresh juice, or when four of us went out in search of tough, plastic zippered bags. We were leaving all we could at the hotel during our 3-day excursion into the salt flats, and would substitute tough plastic for our regular luggage.

Photos of the bus journey are here.

And here is a little video for you.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

But What I Really Need is a Leatherman

I followed Hey-There—my 62-year-old Canadian roommate whose name (Heather) has been Bolivian-bastardized—into our dingy double room in Potosi. A minute later, I thought I'd go buy some water from the front desk.

I tried the door.

I twisted the center turn-gizmo on the knob and tried again.

"Oh shit," I spoke to myself as well as to Hey-There.

"We're locked in."

Hey-There immediately rushed over and tried various squiggles on the doorknob. None of them worked.

"Phone," I said, even as she was already walking to it.

She picked it up.

"Unplug it and plug it back in."

"Still dead."

We eyeballed the room. There were two third-floor windows that looked over a courtyard and a small bathroom window that led into the hallway.

"We could climb out through the bathroom window," I suggested, though we were both eyeballing it dubiously.

"But how would we get up to it, and how would be get our bags out?" I could hear her voice rising as she realized that I'd already switched on to. We were locked in a Bolivian hotel room.

"Okay, stay calm. I've got a Swiss army knife," I said, heading for my backpack. I'd sussed out that the hinges were on our side of the door, and the doorknob was held in by only two screws.

Hey-There didn't get to 62 without the ability to 1) use common sense and 2) embarrass herself when needed. She stuck her head out the bathroom window.

"Help! Help!"

I had my Swiss army knife out by now but could barely use it due to an attack of giggles. I was thinking about a time in Laos when my roomie Lochie had turned the doorknob in a Pak Beng hotel room and it had fallen off in her hands. She's brought it to me with a "WTF" look, and I'd asked the hotel to deal with it. This situation was slightly different.

Later, our trip leader Paul would say "I thought it was just some kids playing or something, but then I realized that yelling sounded like Heather."

He came to our door and Heather said "We're locked in."

Paul tried the knob. He shook it, twisted it, and pushed back and forth.

"I just need a little time," I yelled through the door. "The knob is in the way of my screwdriver. I can only turn about 20 degrees at once."

"I'll go get someone."

Paul brought back the hotel receptionist, who went through the obligatory pushing, pulling, turning, and twisting before running off to find someone else to help.

"Don't worry, Paul, I think I can take the hinges off if this doesn't work."

Hey-There added, "I think she's almost got the knob off. We just need more time."

A few minutes later, the knob loosened in my hands just as the hotel manager pushed the door from the outside. The door swung open to reveal three worried-looking people on one side, two triumphant women on the other (that's me and Hey-There, by the way).

"We want a new room. Now."

Hey-There glared at the staff. They scampered to get us a new key.

The Incans Were Ahead of Their Time

Many interesting products are available in the Andes.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

On Lake Titicaca

I wonder how she really feels about dressing up tourists.


text:
Monday, August 31, 2009

Rice Ball

And just like that, a rice ball photo materialized in my in-box. I must check with Marc to find out which Midtown Italian restaurant he found rice balls at.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

It Takes A Village

Roberta loves the rice balls that show up every year at the Italian street fair. They are the stuff of legend in the neighborhood, and have been for years. Rice balls have probably kept the entire downtown area sated for decades. Their recipe is a secret. More or less.

I have never tried them. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't want to wait in the rice ball line. I counted the number of people there one night. 25 people in line for rice balls!

But Roberta braves the line at the fair, which this year ran for five nights. She was under deadline pressure on the rice ball front. She had plans on Saturday and would never get back in time to acquire rice balls, and had a family obligation on Sunday. But she does love the rice balls, so she was determined to get some.

The first night, on Wednesday, she waited for me. I was making a Yancey-baby-quilt and the class went over. I texted Roberta at one point. "Late. Better go on."

She texted me back a short while later.

"Missed rice balls. Trying again tomorrow."

She'd waited in line but the last three rice balls had been sold to the person in front of her in line, my former next door neighbor, April, who bought three--one for herself and one for each of her kids.

Roberta had run into T the next morning. T is an older woman who lives across the street. She's a classic, with time for everyone. She does favors for the people on the block who can't get around so well, and always carries dog biscuits for her furry friends. She's best friends with A, an older woman who sold her house last year and moved into an old-folks apartment on Sixth Street. I adored A, because she was smart and practical, roamed the streets in her housedress, and had a filthy mouth. I once watched her give her flip-flops to a young Spanish mother whose new house had a basement flood. The mom had on fancier shoes, not made for wading. A stepped right out of the shoes and went home barefoot.

Roberta told T about having barely missed the last of the rice balls.

"I'm going earlier tonight," she explained. "I'll definitely get them this time."

"I don't even like rice balls," T told Roberta.

But Roberta was delayed, and on Thursday night, the rice balls sold out right in front of her again. At least she didn't know the person this time.

"You've got to get here earlier," said the woman selling the rice balls. She remembered Roberta's disappointment from when April snagged the last three the night before.

She ran into T again on Friday morning. T was upset that Roberta had missed out again.

"I'll get your rice balls," said T. "I'll go for you tonight.

"No, no," said Roberta. "I'm going to the beach for a few hours but I'll be back in plenty of time."

T shook her head and insisted. Her friend L said "T, Roberta can get her own rice balls."

"I'll call you if I'm late," promised Roberta.

But of course she wouldn't dream of calling a neighbor to pick her up some rice balls. And of course was delayed at the beach. At 8, Roberta parked her car and ran over to the fair with Tom, who also lives near us.

They weren't real thrilled when they saw the massive queue for the rice balls. But then Roberta spotted T, mid-way through the line.

"I saw your lights were off and you weren't home yet, so I came over to wait on line for you," said T.

Stunned, Roberta offered to take her place. But T wouldn't let her.

"You go have fun," said T. She waited and bought three rice balls (in case Tom wanted one) and wouldn't take money for them.

Roberta took her rice balls guiltily, but with gratititude. "Don't worry about it," said T. "I know where you are if I need you."

Which is true. Roberta has a car and in case of emergencies, T has her phone number. I remember when T got comfortable enough with me to show her where her emergency meds were kept. There are responsibilities that come along with living on an old-timer block, in an actual community.

Roberta hadn't gone ten feet from the rice ball line before she ran into April.

"Did you get your rice balls this time?"

She'd then run into L.

"Did you get them?"

"Yes! T got me three!"

She ran into more neighbors at the fair, and Tom shook his head. He has never lived on my old block but he knows it's an old-style community.

Later that evening, Roberta ran into T again.

"I ate two and saved one for tomorrow because Tom doesn't like them."

T gave Tom a high-five.

"I don't like those things either! What's all the fuss?"

I'll have to wait for next year to find out.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Cheapskate's Night Out

I was congratulating myself on being a clever cheapskate yesterday afternoon.

In the morning, I'd located a $10 near-back-row ticket to see Carrie Fisher's one-woman show. Score!

Then I'd gotten free tickets to see The Bacchae in Central Park. Some 20 years back, someone would have to go hang around the line in Central Park all day to get our tickets. Years later, we'd have to wait at the Public Theater in the afternoon to get tickets. Nowadays, you just click on the "Virtual Line" and you know in advance if free tickets await you at the box office.

Next, I headed to get a student facial after work at Christine Valmy. These are about thirty bucks. Borderline-cheap. By that I mean, what's cheaper than getting a student facial? Not getting one at all. But I splurged.

I ran into a problem after that. I got out by 7:10 and raced to the B train to get to Central Park by 7:30. At 7:30, reserved tickets are given to the standby line.

That's when my cheapskate luck hit a snag.

The B train stopped mid-tunnel.

And sat.

And started again.

And sat some more.

I looked at my watch. Minutes ticked by.

My superstitious side chastised my prouder self. I shouldn't have been self-congratulatory earlier. My cheapskate skills were not as sharp as I'd thought.

I finally got off the train at 7:35. My tickets were gone. I worried about the friend waiting there for me. Maybe we'd just go to dinner then.

At the box office, the clerk shook her head. "Sorry, your best bet is to try the standby line."

The line stretched up the park. I got in line with my friend.

"Why not," said the man in line in front of us. "It's just a few more minutes and you're already here."

I heard an usher yelling from the front of the line, but couldn't tell what he was saying over the sax-playing busker along the path.

Oh shut up so we can hear, I thought.

"Single file" was what the usher was saying. Not "Tickets for tonight's performance are gone."

We got in. The play was odd but the staging interesting, and of course the music was by Philip Glass so I'm not complaining. A small raccoon roaming under the feet of the row of theater-goers in front of us enhanced the performance. Crickets chirped, the weather was cool and perfect, and the only irritant was overhead planes and people looking at their mobile phones.

"I must remember to do this more often," I thought.

Theater in the park. Free if you have an unlimited Metrocard.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Family Tree

I've been digging around my files, trying to find photos I took in 2004. Or maybe it was 2003. See? I don't even know what year I'm hunting for. No wonder I can't find the photos. I also don't know if they were digital or print.

I was looking for some photos I took in the town of Briery Branch, Virginia. Those of you who have been reading a while know that I'm half-educated-classy-liberal and half-ornery-hillbilly. Half-Yankee and half-Confederate in historical terms. Half-vegetarian-Hemingway-artsy liberals and half-hunting-guitar-playing-bulldozer-operators. Which explains a lot if you know me. But I pass in mixed company. Meeting me for the first time, no one knows I'm not from an Ivy League school except those co-conspirators that attended wacky Antioch with me.

To complicate my heritage further, I grew up in a mostly black, dense urban neighborhood, though we were unlucky enough to live next door to the trashiest of redneck white trash.

But we're looking at my hillbilly side today. Not the immediate relatives but the people we know nothing about.

Hillbillies sometimes don't keep the best records, so one half of my heritage was the stuff of vague rumor. One of those rumors was that we were from this town I'd stopped in. My mother had heard somewhere that there were a lot of Javinses in the cemetery there, so I'd thought I'd take a look.

There were. Lots of Javinses. I took a photo of one headstone labeled "Edward Snowden Javins" who had served in the Confederate Army.

But this was disconcertingly meaningless. Who had these people been?

I filed it away under "Who the hell knows?" and continued on to view the nearest campground.

My mother has long had a website about my last name. She sometimes gets e-mails from people looking for info on Javins geneology.

A few weeks ago, she got the Rosetta Stone of my dad's half of the family. An e-mail from a stranger laid out my heritage on my dad's side. And the guy with the tombstone that I'd taken a photo of?

My great-great grandfather.

That same e-mail traced the family tree all the way back to a German who came over in the 1700s.

I'm part-Bavarian. Like the worthless ex who vanished after I landed in the Namibian hospital in 2005.

Oh hell.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Weekend Loaner Dog

This is Gypsy. We hung out this weekend. She was a very good dog, almost not trouble at all. Plus she made me run up and down four flights of stairs 3-4 more times a day than normal.

Yay Gypsy!

Saturday, August 22, 2009

A Note from Kampala

I've just read about this book on Anne-Marie's blog, and I must have it. It's not on any US sites yet, so I just ordered it from

And if you didn't just click on the link to Anne-Marie's blog, please do so. She is living in Kampala, Uganda, and her current blog post has a bit of fascinating information about the "whopper."

Friday, August 21, 2009

Doo-Wop by the Shore

When I went to Wildwood last week, some people said "Why? Why go to a beach town when you hate the beach?"

True, I do hate the beach. I hate heat. I hate excessive sun. I don't like to wear a bathing suit. I don't like sand. I do like to swim but it's hard to do laps with all those waves smacking you all the time.

But I like quirky culture. And Wildwood has plenty of that.

It's billed as the "Doo Wop Capital of the World." What that means is that plenty of old-fifties-era buildings still exist. Wildwood was a major center of pop culture fifty years ago, when the Garden State Parkway and the modern era of car culture was new and exciting. Think Happy Days. Think the Twist, tail-finned cars, Route 66-style, neon signs, and angular designs. Think a beach town in the vein of Disney's Tomorrowland, cutting-edge at the time. Kind of quaint and quirky now.

Gentrification has taken its toll on Wildwood as it has all over the US, but the crashing economy seems to have put a stop to that.

Bus tours of Wildwood's unique leftover architecture happen on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I've been meaning to get down there for a few years but it's tough to get out of work mid-week. I finally went last Thursday to check out Wildwood.

Here are some photos.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Glad It's Not My Car

Roberta and I went across the park for a late-night snack at the Hamilton Park Ale House.

We were just hurrying home to get back to work when a furious, unexpected thunderstorm kicked in. Wind belted the trees. Rain fell sideways. Thunder and lightning cracked and flashed right on top of each other.

We huddled in the restaurant's vestibule, waiting for a break in the storm, then hurried home.

In front of my apartment, we found a huge tree branch had fallen across a cable, tearing it down and leaving it in the street, the tree crushing the top of a compact car's rear hatch.

I walked over to the police station to report the downed tree-and-wire, where the desk clerk—with all the enthusiasm of a man who has seen it all—said "Yeah, we have that one already."

Firefighters showed up a short while later. With a chainsaw. They sawed up the branch and force-fed the remains to a garbage truck.

Never a dull moment in J.C.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Whirlwind Road Trip

I had to get Henry the Ford Taurus his yearly car inspection. Which happens in Virginia since my sister actually owns him.

I know, I know... he's my car. But when I left town for an extended period of time once, I gave my car to my sister. I keep meaning to legally take him back, but I'm kind of superstitious when it comes to my car. I secretly believe that he'll break as soon as I pay all the fees to make him my own again.

Last year, I whizzed down and back in a day, straggling into town on fumes and running out of gas just past the Turnpike gate. This time, I left work early on Thursday, hitting the Turnpike in the rain.

Cleared out of town so I clear my head.

My iPod chose Kathleen Edwards on "Random," playing it through the car stereo as I praised the E-Z Pass and whipped off of the Turnpike and onto the Garden State Parkway. I'd decided to take a look at Wildwood on the way.

I was feeling paranoid about driving. This must be because I drive so infrequently. Or maybe it's that tiny little voice in my head that keeps reminding me of the fortune teller in Bangkok. Two years in a row—I'd gone back to him to see if he said the same things twice and he had, based on some complex equations he worked out on paper—the fortune teller had warned me that at age 43, I'd be in a horrible car accident and would be okay, but recovery would take a long time. I laughed at myself for thinking about this.

And then thought, maybe he was off. Maybe the car accident was metaphorical, and was actually the unfortunate events in late 2005, blogged with obscurity right here. Recovery sure had taken a long time. Sitting still and letting myself hit bottom while trying to regain the life I'd gleefully abandoned in 2000 in favor of the open road had not been the hardest single thing I'd ever done, but it had been the most relentlessly unrewarding.

Twenty thousand roads I went down, down, down.

The rain let up as Lucinda Williams sang Gram Parsons. Then the evening cleared for a perfect trip to Wildwood. I parked and took the bus tour of the "Doo-Wop" 1950s motels.

Afterwards, I drove up the road to Vineland to stay the night. Henry and I had driven these routes before once, in 2004 when researching Best in Tent Camping: New Jersey. But it was dark now and I fretted. I hate driving unfamiliar rural roads at night in deer country.

I checked into a tired Days Inn. The bed jumped when the person in the next room rolled over. Ewww, I thought. The whole room was eww. A homeless woman slept in the outdoor stairwell, her shoes on her lap.

I'd been to over 70 countries, most of them alone, sparring with touts and con artists while dragging around a 40-pound backpack. Why was I bothered by a grimy Days Inn and a relatively short drive in my own (sort of) car?

I must be getting soft. How can enduring my "normal" life until it was indeed normal make me weak and paranoid? I charged the iPod overnight for tomorrow's trip.

And you and me are in way over our heads with this one.

On Friday morning—suspecting that Liz Phair was onto something—I drove to Virginia, got Henry's new inspection sticker, visited Home Depot with my mother, then drove as far north as Delaware before collapsing into another grimy hotel, this time a Howard Johnson's.

I checked out their free breakfast on Saturday morning. Froot Loops and corn flakes. I got back in my car and picked up an Egg McMuffin at a drive-through.

I'd gotten started too late and the heat of the day was already bearing down as Henry and I, feeling braver now, tore up I-95. I was singing along to the iPod, spacing out a bit instead of gripping the steering wheel. Trucks no longer terrified me. I'd just needed to get used to being behind the wheel again, here in Henry the Ford, who had driven 10,000 miles in 2002, shuttling Turbo and me from L.A. to mid-America to Virginia to New York. Turbo had even driven him on the left a few times before I'd calmly said "You're driving Australian again."

The Delaware Memorial Bridge shimmered into view, slightly blurry through the haze. Just over the bridge was New Jersey.

Home. For now.

What are you doing in a place like this, girl? Anyone could see you're the queen of the world.

Blaring the Bottle Rockets with the windows down, I flipped the gear shifter into overdrive and revved Henry a bit, to go faster up the ramp to the bridge.

"Yalla. Let's go."

Monday, August 17, 2009

Is That Legal?

I went to the Italian street festival last night. These nuns were both carrying stuffed animals. They'd been racking up wins at the horse races!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

My Craftsy Secret Identity

Craftsy-Marie made this thing last week:

It's on its way to a certain JC-in-California baby right now. Actually, it's already arrived but maybe Mom and Dad need to go to the post office or something to pick it up.

I made it in Hoboken at the same place I made a bag and skirt before, one of two sewing hotspots that I frequent. I think I'm going to take a bag-boot-camp there in October.

Here's a bag that I made and sent to my friend Jessica last week at the same time that I sent the quilt.

And here's a shot that ended up on the crafts shop's Facebook page:

Saturday, August 15, 2009

More New Adventures in Wi-Fi

Remember last year when I learned I could sit in a rest area by the NJ Turnpike and skim wi-fi off of passing buses?

Today on Facebook, I noted that I was sitting in J. Fenimore Cooper service area, trying to steal wi-fi from a passing bus.

And Kevin Kobasic quickly sketched up this funny image!

A disclaimer: I was not hanging over the bus. I was sitting in my car. And the Bolt Bus likely said "New York City," not "A(n)dirondacks."

Friday, August 14, 2009

Roadside America

It was all about the automobile in 1950s America. And shore town Wildwood, NJ—with Chubby Checker doing the Twist the first time there and Bill Haley and the Comets performing "Rock Around the Clock" for the first time—was in its heady heyday.

Here's a sneak preview at a photo I took last night in a quick tour of Wildwood's 1950s architecture. There are more than 50 of these old hotels left, and tourists love them.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Photos of Last Saturday

I've been so tardy on getting up the photos of last week's canoeing expedition! But I finally got a chance tonight, since I'm in a hotel in Vineland, New Jersey, and don't have any distractions. (More on that tomorrow.)

Here they are. I didn't put up Kraiger or his kid... they never agreed to go on my blog in exchange for a ride to Secaucus.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Faded Us

My former neighbor (Helen) and I went for a walk down the street last night to see how our old block was doing. We took her dog and greeted the old men hanging around outside the sneaker shop.

The sneaker shop has moved out of downtown.

"His business was all on the computer anyway," explained Larry, the sixty-some-year-old who'd lived in my former apartment when he was four. "So now we rent the store."

"We" was him and a gaggle of old men. Mostly Italian men, all from the neighborhood. There was a computer-printed sign taped to the curtained display window that had once held sneakers.

Members only.

"How does it work?" I asked.

"We each pay a hundred dollars a year. It's nice in there. We have a big TV and we can just hang out."

Cute. I'm pleased the guys have a hang-out. They used to hang out in front of the pizza shop and before that in front of the deli.

Helen and I walked around to our own block. We talked to some neighbors, who told us "facts" about our old building that were just theories we'd come up with when living there. "They didn't use primer the first time, they didn't paint it right."

"No," I explained. "That was our first thought but actually I have a photo of the building primed from 2002, before any of us moved in."

"Oh, well, they didn't use outdoor paint."

"No, that was one of our theories, but when we got it repainted, we made SURE it was the right paint. We later learned that cedar chips and you have to maintain it. Some people say you can use stain instead of paint."

They looked at us skeptically. Our theories from 2004 had become lore, fact on the block, our own conjectures passed back to us as certainties.

One of our neighbors thought Helen looked familiar but couldn't place her.

"We both lived right there," I explained, shocked.

And I realized.

The people on this block have been here for 60-70 years. We were just there for a few years each.

Forgotten already, just a couple single women passing through. The gossip we'd produced had become incorporated into the bible of the street, but our names and faces were already faded.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

A Closer Look

Taking a closer look at our canoeing route here, we can see that it was a beautiful day to canoe the Meadowlands.

And here's how urban it is. This is right outside Manhattan. You can see not only the Empire State Building but also one of the spurs of the New Jersey Turnpike.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Local Tour

Goodness... I am starting to repeat my own adventures.

Okay, not starting. Long-time readers went across Southeast Asia two years running with me, then tolerated Cape Town to Kampala in both 2001 and 2005.

Last year, in June of 2008, I went canoeing in the Meadowlands. Helen, Roberta, Tom, and I went, and it was a fascinating way to spend the morning...

...before I boarded a plane to Vegas to go on a Grand Canyon rafting-camping trip.

The Meadowlands were a bit obscured by the week that followed.

I went canoeing again this year, on Saturday with Kraiger and his kid. I tried reclining in the middle of the canoe but the kid only lasted about 10 minutes before she wanted to swap places with me.

Turns out several people are fascinated by this excursion. The Meadowlands have a reputation of being filthy and polluted, of stinking and being an illegal dumping ground.

New Jersey isn't just home to crowds, the NJ Turnpike, and stinky oil refineries. It also has Pinelands, forests, beaches, and a piece of the Appalachian Trail. NJ suffers from an image problem. Why would the Meadowlands be any different than the rest of the state?

Since 1969, the Meadowlands Commission has been trying to control illegal dumping, preserve the wetlands, and restore the damaged parts. The area I was canoeing in, Mill Creek Marsh, was restored starting in 1996. I'm not sure when canoe tours started but there is a public launch. If you have your own canoe or kayak, you could row around for free.

I don't have a canoe, so I have to wait for the public summer tours. You can book them (or pontoon tours) here.*

We paid $15 a person, which included canoe rental, life vest, paddles, and a guide. We were rained out of our first-choice date in June.

We drove to the canoe launch in Secaucus, which is past Home Depot and on a dead-end road to the east of the Secaucus center. Kraiger's kid was fascinated by a dead fiddler crab on the launch, and then by a wild bunny. She followed the bunny until larger people came along and loudly scared the bunny away.

Rampant reeds called phragmites grow wild among the wetlands. There are channels through the phragmites, and we paddled through them, viewing egrets and herons.

We did not spot any elusive muskrats. We did spot a wild soccer ball and what appeared to be a redneck house, blasting loud music across a yard filled with a dirtbike, quad-bike, and assorted BBQ setups.

The sun was strong and after an hour of paddling, we were just getting tired when we headed back to the launch. Henry the Ford Taurus was waiting for us, with a container of fresh watermelon.

*If you can't get on the public tours, try renting a canoe or kayak here.

Saturday, August 08, 2009

Urban Safari

I took this photo from a canoe in the Meadowlands this morning.

The tan sliver across the middle is the back of Mill Creek Mall on Route 3. The skyline just beyond includes the Empire State Building.

Thursday, August 06, 2009

Contemplating the Future

"Once in a while you find yourself in an odd situation. You get into it by degrees and in the most natural way but, when you are right in the midst of it, you are suddenly astonished and ask yourself how in the world it all came about."

This is the opening passage from Kon-Tiki, Thor Heyerdahl's book about crossing the Pacific by raft. And I love it. The Talking Heads say this well too, of course, in Once in a Lifetime. But this is so much more apt as most odd situations don't seem so odd until you're in the thick of them. Opening theme parks in the desert near Iraq, for example, or fleeing an angry hippo by the Nile, or even something as innocuous as boarding a freighter for Australia.

I'm thinking about this a lot right now. 2011 is the ten-year anniversary of, when I went around the world for a year by public transportation. I've been determined to stay home. But I've been here almost two years now. The terrific malaise I suffered initially is completely gone now. The gulf of depression that opened up when the workaholic in mom jeans told me I had never mattered is a distant memory and symptom of his problems, not mine. I'm done. I spring back when touched, perfectly baked now and ready to take on the world.

Should I go backwards this time? I want to go to West Africa. Why stop there? I've been meaning to take on India again, wanting to stop a while in Bali, and I've been curious about Borneo and Madagascar. And there's that not-so-small matter of Brazil that needs checking out.

But I have a frequent flyer round-the-world ticket. How arbitrary would it be to take ships this time out when the plane is free? What would YOU do?

I wonder too, how long I'll have to plan before I have said it out loud so many times that I'm compelled to make the jump. Back. Back out there, into the marvelous, exhausting, inconvenient unknown.

"Please don't die," said a certain comic book writer. That's a factor too. I push it, I know. I don't feel that I do anything unusually crazy, but there is the occasional close call.

Let's rephrase the question. What would YOU do isn't quite how it should be asked.

What do YOU think I should do?

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Everyone Loves A Parade

I put together video of the Jersey City Bolivian parade so that everyone can enjoy it.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

Bolivian Parade, JC

I got a little carried away with taking photos yesterday.

You can view them all here.

Saturday, August 01, 2009

I do hope you will all forgive me for assuming someone was moving in today and had hired a moving van company with a rather odd name.

Every Day's A Party

The Andean music echoing through the streets should have been a tip-off, but I just learned that the festival happening on the streets of JC today is a parade for Bolivia! I didn't even know we had a Bolivian population here.

I'm grabbing my camera and will report back.


WARC-Truncated: length

text:
Let Our People Grow

Let our people grow their own pot.

Activist Clark French Discussing Cannabis Legalisation On Sky News

British Cannabis Activist Clark French who suffers from Multiple Sclerosis appears on Sky news promoting science, not stigma, regarding cannabis use.

Bored Cannabis Activists try a Rickroll

Dear Cannabis Activist, Are you tired of sharing the same information to the same people and feeling like they don't give a shit? Getting annoyed at people caring more about material crap than the important things in life...like weed? If so then this could be your solution to returning stupidness[...]

Let Our People Grow

Let our people grow their own marijuana without the fear of having their door kicked up the hall, without being persecuted by the police and governments, without being stigmatized by fellow members of society.  We're not criminals!  End the war on cannabis people.

Support Our Troops

Support our troops. There've been many great cannabis activists over the years, some gone but never forgotten.


text:
Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Wonderful Wednesday Challenge - Kraftin' Kimmie Stamps!

It's Wonderful Wednesday time! We hope you can play along! As always it's ANYTHING GOES! Break out your Kraftin' Kimmie Stamps and get krafty!
You have just a few more days to preorder the Surprise Christmas Krafty Guest Kit.  All of the July Release stamp sets are also up in the store!
We want EVERYONE to be able to play along so your submission can use ANY stamp and can be any theme, any style, any design and it can be a card, a scrapbook page, an altered item! It must be a NEW creation and you can enter on this post until July 19th at midnight! At the end of the month one random winner will be chosen from all the submissions for the whole month and will receive a $20 Gift Card to the shop!

Hi, it's time for another WW challenge with Kraftin' Kimmie Stamps!  I've made an underwater shaker card with the Oceans Of Love stamp set.  This is a fun and versatile stamp set.  I've used it so often and in many different ways!  I colored all the little animals and cut them out and glued them into the shaker part of the card.  I used seed beads because they kinda look like a bit of coral!  The shaker box was cut out using a YNS rectangle stitch die.  The waves are also a die from YNS.  I stamped the sentiment then used white embossing powder so that it would pop!
Thanks for stopping by and I hope you can join us again this week for our anything goes challenge!

All Sorts Challenge - Week 371 One For The Boys!
My Sheri Crafts - #185 Down At The Beach!
The Corrosive Challenge - #7 Nature/Animals.
Crafting From The Heart - #120 Anything Goes.
Through The Craft Room Door - Anything Goes.
Crafty Sentiments Designs - Anything Goes.
Cards Und More - #162 Summer, Beach, Sea.
Craft Your Passion - #320 Anything Goes.
613 Avenue Create - #184 Anything Goes.
Creative Corner - Anything Goes.

  1. What a cute card! The die cut elements are awesome! Thanks for playing at TTCRD with us this week... I hope I will see again soon!

    Alessandra - DT

  2. Ach wie süß! Fabelhaft gemacht. Danke für die Teilnahme bei Creative Corner.
    LG Dreja

  3. Hi Marilyn: What a cute shaker card - they are so much fun! Thanks for joining us at Craft Your Passion Challenges! - Patti (CYP DT)

  4. so gorgeous, love the design
    thanks for playing with us at crafty sentiments

  5. You can't not smile when you look at this card! Love it! Thanks for sharing it with us at My Sheri Crafts!:)

  6. Gorgeous and sweet card.
    Thank you for sharing over at Allsorts;-))m

  7. Thanks for joining Allsorts challenge with this great entry, good luck.
    Happy crafting
    Tracy x

  8. great shakercard!Thanks for joining us at cards and more and good luck! Hugs,Beate

  9. What an adorable shaker card! Love it! Thank you so much for sharing this with us at Through The Craft Room Door. Good Luck!
    (Hugs) Cara
    Through The Craft Room Door {Owner}
    TTCRD Challenge Blog
    My Creative Chaos {My Personal Blog}

  10. What a cute card! Love the cute die cuts and all the fun colors! Thanks for joining us at My Sheri Crafts!

  11. This card is just adorable! I love the shaker card! Definitely looks like they are in the sea! What a great idea! Thanks so much for joining us at Craft Your Passion- Rina, DT Member


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  • Giant wrestlers win

  • Discovery Zone

  • Quinn named AD

  • Giant Challenge

Varsity Wrestling beats Blackford

Wednesday, January 18, 2017 6:00 PM Marion High School AWAY 72 Blackford High School HOME 6 Meet Recap Marion had a duel meet with Blackford Wednesday night and came out with a impressive victory. The Giants won the match 72-6. The Giants winners from the night are as follows: 106, Daylen Johnson 113, Gavin Collins […]

Varsity Wrestling finishes 1st place

Saturday, January 7, 2017 9:00 AM Place 1 Points 5 Meet Recap Saturday morning, the Marion Giants wrestling team went 5 and 0 at the Guerin Catholic Invite. Scores: Win vs Lewis Cass 38-36 Win vs Brebuf Jesuit 78-6 Win vs Shelbyville 76-9 Win vs Guerin Catholic 60-22 Win vs Indianapolis Scecina 65-12 Five Giants […]

Sign up TODAY for the Giant Discovery Zone after-school program!

Calling all Marion Community Schools third- and fourth-graders: Have you signed up to be part of the Giant Discovery Zone? This exciting new after-school program begins soon! MHS Giants coaches will be among the leaders of the activities. This is your chance to explore lots of different sports and other activities to find out what […]

Quinn to take the lead for Marion Giants Athletic Department

Marion High School’s next athletic director will build on a long career in education and athletics and recent accolades from the Kentucky High School Athletic Directors Association as he returns to Indiana for his new role with the Giants. Mike Quinn, a Vincennes native, most recently has served as athletic director for Madisonville North Hopkins […]

Giant Challenge 2016: We want YOU here!

The 2016 Giant Challenge is shaping up to be even bigger and better than the first one! Current Giant athletes will again face off against alumni teams. But this year there will be MORE community events. MORE entertainment. MORE recognitions. You don’t want to miss it! >> Mark your calendars now for July 22-24, and click here […]

Students Invited to IHSAA Leadership Conference

Last year was the first year that Marion sent students to the IHSAA Student-Athlete Leadership Conference and now is the time to sign up to go to this summer’s event.  The Marion Giant Athletic Booster Club (MGAB) has once again donated the funds so that Marion students can attend this valuable day of fun and […]

MHS A.D. Bechler leaving after two successful years

Playing a part in Marion High School’s first state championship since 2000, balancing the budget and starting a student-athlete leadership team are some of the highlights that Jamy Bechler will look back fondly on from his two years serving as the athletic director at Marion High School. He announced today that he will be stepping […]

Free Physicals Offered for Marion Students

Marion High School will be offering free physicals on Monday, May 2 at the high school gymnasium.  They will last from 5:00-7:00pm.  Please enter door #16 of the high school on the west side of the gymnasium.  These physicals are open to any MCS student.  It is especially important for any current 8th-11th grader that […]

Marion’s Website Ranked #1

For the month of March, no high school athletic website in the state of Indiana had more visitors than, according to Varsity News Network. Marion’s athletic website has finished in the top-5 a number of times but never has it been the most popular site in a month.  It’s highest finish prior was 2nd […]

This Week’s Activities

Upcoming Marion High School athletic events: THURSDAY, MAY 26 6:00 pm – HOME Boys Track Regionals @ IWU FRIDAY, MAY 27 No games scheduled SATURDAY, MAY 28 8:30 am – Boys Golf @ Wabash Invite 10:00 am – HOME Kayla Dubuque (Marion) vs. Calie Vanbuskirk (Elwood) for Individual Singles Sectional Championship SUNDAY, MAY 29 No […]

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    RT @IHSAA1 Thanks for tuning in to tonight's #IHSAA Softball Tournament Pairings Show! News release:…

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It’s a raid! – The Palace Hotel South Melbourne

The Palace Hotel is a traditional style of pub in Melbourne. While there’s a few big screen TV’s to watch sports on, everything else focuses on building a great atmosphere for socialising. It’s also free of pokies (poker machines), that plague of money sucking zombie makers that have turned suburban pubs and clubs into boring soul-less boxes.

Hidden upstairs at the Palace is a beautiful open dining room for private functions, the type where you can easily picture a long wine soaked lunch with super-important people and it is here that there’s a private room. Completed with two humourous murals based on the classic ‘dogs playing poker’ pictures hanging in pubs the world over.

from camera 025from camera 027 The Palace Hotel in South Melbourne has a secret room upstairs, with two new murals to compliment the space. I’ll post better photos once the mini-renovation project is complete.

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Wednesday, September 30, 2009

gotta have it

I'm taking some much needed down time tonight. Neill and I went out for mexican food, watched the new house episode, and now I'm catching up on a week's worth of wedding porn. While perusing weddingbee I came across this picture, taken by Laurie Peacock Photography for a wedding that happened right here in Chicago.

Look at those earrings! swoon. They are made out of vintage chandelier crystal by Precious Meshes. And there is a matching necklace!!! oh my.

i want these sooooooooo bad. But unfortunately the life of a graduate student doesn't include the luxury of randomly dropping 60 bucks on a pair of earrings or a necklace. but, these beauties might definitely end up on a holiday wish list :)

what do you think? are the earring worth a splurge? What about the necklace?

1 comment:

  1. totally worth it!!! i loooove them.

Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts. Every comment brings a smile to my face!


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Monday, September 23, 2013

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen and Everything In Between:

Black Griffin just had a baby
Who knew that Blake Griffin had impregnated NFL QB Matt Leinart's baby mother??

Well here's a shocker.  LA Clippers star Blake Griffin had time to make a baby during the last NBA season.  Because, according to a circulating birth certificate, he and 27-year-old blondie Brynn Cameron welcomed a bouncing baby named Ford Wilson Cameron-Griffin on August 1st.

Brynn is a former USC basketball player.  But she's most known for sharing a 7-year-old son named Cole Cameron Leinart with NFL QB Matt Leinart, who was just released from the Buffalo Bills last month.  The two broke up before she had the baby and had some serious child support drama going on.  That's all been smoothed over with Brynn getting a cool $15K/month, but will it all start up again with Blake?
The twosome started dating back in 2011, but broke up before the baby was born.
As for how Brynn & Blake met, aside from her apparent get-sponsored-by-an-athlete skills....
Brynn's younger brother, Jordan Cameron, also was a USC athelete who entered the NFL. Right before the 2011 draft, Blake Griffin helped Jordan make a funny video to get the scouts' attention. So Blake & Brynn possibly could have met through Jordan. Brynn's brother explained how he first met Blake in an interview last year with
"My roommate in college was James Dunleavy and his dad was the Clippers coach at the time. So we kind of got him acclimated to town and showed him around. We started hanging out from that. We had an idea for a video and my agent got involved, and it took off from there."

Have you seen "Black Ink" New Episode that premiered tonight?
I'm typing this as I watch the show but they definitely have baby mama drama.

  • Oh' Shit's baby mother came into the family dinner that was supposed to celebrate Oh' Shit being free and instead the mother of his son came in and said "I'm leaving if she staying", then started swinging.

  • Oh' Shit diffused the situation and the mother of his son left.
Did you see the video of Trey Songz singing Babey,Baby, Baaaabby?

Sunday, September 8, 2013

MUSIC in September

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen and Everything In Between:

Check out Chrisette Michele's latest video "Love Won't Leave Me Out"

I love this video, its so fresh and fun with cute lipstick colors and cool braids. Did you check out my new logo at the top?

Follow Me on Twitter:

Adios Amigos, Until Next Time

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen and Everything In Between:

Haven't blogged in a minute, I've been veeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrery busy!!

  • Recently, I watched R and B Divas LA and Lil Mo, Claudette, Miche'le and Chante Moore performed their "Divas Monologues"

Michele performed where she announced her suicide attempt three years ago, that had me thinking about how so many others have had the same thoughts and have continued to have those thoughts or completely change their lives.

In order to feel like LIFE IS WORTH LIVING, you must fully LOVE YOURSELF!!

_________________________________________________________________________________Life can become difficult to the point where it blinds you from the positive things in your life or in the lives of others but you have to remember that your life can and will get better, it is just a matter of time. You may feel terrible, fight through the difficulties of life.

  1. First, you must check yourself. Make sure you are living right and how you believe God would want you to live before you blame life's problems or trials on anyone else.
  2. Secondly, check the people you have around you. Often times, we are suffering because we take on the burdens of others problems like we don't have our own business that we can barely handle. God 1st, You 2nd, then others..................
  3. Lastly, start praying, gain more faith, write down the positive things in your life. Notice, if you laugh and smile more, you want have to be upset or think about suicide. Do what makes YOU Happy!!

Adios Amigos, Until Next Time


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VANCOUVER, CANADA - The World Sikh Organization of Canada has successfully assisted a Sikh student barred from wearing his kirpan into the Law School Admission Test (LSAT).

Ishwer Singh Basra, an amritdhari (initiated) Sikh, was scheduled to write the LSAT on September 27, 2014. Upon arriving at the test centre in Burnaby BC, Ishwer Singh's kirpan was spotted by a proctor. Despite being explained its significance, the proctor said the kirpan would not be permitted in the test centre.

The proctor then proceeded to call the Law Society Admission Council (LSAC), the body that administers the LSAT, and said that there was a student carrying a "knife" and insisting it was for religious purposes. After a brief phone call, the proctor reiterated to Ishwer Singh that his "knife" would not be allowed.

Ishwer Singh was given the option of either removing the kirpan and being allowed to write the test or forfeiting the exam and writing another day in which he would once again be told to remove his kirpan.

Ishwer Singh decided to call his wife and have her take his kirpan. After briefly stepping out of the room to hand over his kirpan, Ishwer Singh was told to once again 'check-in' to the exam.
At the end of the exam, Ishwer Singh was given a "Violation Slip" which read, “Student was in possession of small pocket knife for religious reasons. Sikhism. Called LSAC was approved to discard of item and was readmitted student called spouse to come to retrieve item”
The Violation Slip was placed in Ishwer Singh's LSAC file.

Ishwer Singh contacted the WSO about this incident and requested assistance. The WSO's legal counsel Balpreet Singh quickly initiated a dialogue with LSAC, which admitted that the kirpan had wrongly been barred from the test centre and offered an apology to Ishwer Singh. The Violation Notice that was placed in his LSAC file has been removed and Ishwer Singh was also given the opportunity by LSAC to include a note that would accompany his law school applications explaining the incident that took place and how it affected his performance in the test.

LSAC has assured WSO that in the future LSAC staff will be instructed to allow Sikhs to wear the kirpan. WSO also provided an informational document on the kirpan to LSAC that can be shared with staff.

WSO BC Vice President Jasbir Kaur Randhawa said, "it's somewhat ironic that a Sikh was told he couldn't wear his kirpan to the Law School Admission Test, when it is in fact Canadian law that explicitly protects the wearing of the kirpan. We are glad that the situation was quickly resolved but it is surprising that an incident like this took place in the first place."

Ishwer Singh said, "This incident was unfortunate. I have never experienced this degree of unprofessionalism. But despite my humiliation, this was a great opportunity to create awareness, acceptance and unity. I would like to extend my appreciation and gratitude to

Balpreet Singh and the World Sikh Organization of Canada for their support and confidence throughout."

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Rosa Luxemburg

In the Storm

Source: Le Socialiste, May 1-8, 1904;
Translated: for by Mitch Abidor.

May Day this year stands out particularly because it is being celebrated in the midst of the noises of war. Because of this, its character as a demonstration in favor of world peace has the upper hand this year. But more than ever, in the presence of war, the specifically proletarian demonstration must also be the expression of this idea, that the realization of universal peace cannot be conceived of except as linked to the realization of our socialist final goal.

If the Russo-Japanese War has demonstrated anything, it’s the vanity of the speculations of those “humanitarian” socialists who claim to found world peace on the system of equilibrium of the Double and the Triple Alliances. These panegyrists of military alliances were unable to sufficiently express their enchantment with the period of thirty years of peace in central Europe and, based on this fact, proclaimed with all possible naturalness “peace on the march” and “humanity at peace.” The thunder of the cannons of Port Arthur – which have made the stock exchanges of Europe tremble convulsively – recall to the intelligible voices of these socialist ideologists of bourgeois society that, in their fantasies of European peace, they’d forgotten only one thing: modern colonial politics, which have, as of now, gone beyond the stage of local European conflicts in transporting them to the Great Ocean. The Russo-Japanese War now gives to all an awareness that even war and peace in Europe – its destiny – isn’t decided between the four walls of the European concert, but outside it, in the gigantic maelstrom of world and colonial politics.

And its in this that the real meaning of the current war resides for social-democracy, even if we set aside its immediate effect: the collapse of Russian absolutism. This war brings the gaze of the international proletariat back to the great political and economic connectedness of the world, and violently dissipates in our ranks the particularism, the pettiness of ideas that form in any period of political calm.

The war completely rends all the veils which the bourgeois world – this world of economic, political and social fetishism – constantly wraps us in.

The war destroys the appearance which leads us to believe in peaceful social evolution; in the omnipotence and the untouchability of bourgeois legality; in national exclusivism; in the stability of political conditions; in the conscious direction of politics by these “statesmen” or parties; in the significance capable of shaking up the world of the squabbles in bourgeois parliaments; in parliamentarism as the so-called center of social existence.

War unleashes – at the same time as the reactionary forces of the capitalist world – the generating forces of social revolution which ferment in its depths.

Yes, this time we celebrate May First under a sharp wind, the pace of events in the world strongly speeded up.

Last updated on: 30.11.2008


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Batu Caves, Kuala Lumpur
   You have to climb a 272 steps staircase to get to the caves, i had to stop three times to catch my breath...it was quite a morning workout. From the top of the staircase the hindu temple below was an awesome sight, with possibly the largest Murugan statue i have ever seen.

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Rent A Dumpster In Jefferson MD 21755

Having a roll-off dumpster is essential in Jefferson for any type of construction task, major home improvement endeavor as well as for other numerous commercial usages. Nevertheless, if you’ve never ever rented out in the past, this process could seem frustrating and also difficult.

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“Spring 2009 Nature Sketching and Painting Classes”

photo courtesy of John Rusak-Clarence Bee News, teaching at the Burchfield Nature and Art Center Spring 2008, 5th grade class

Indoor and Field Classes

Join Naturalist Artist guide Mary McAndrew in sketching, painting and experiencing nature through art.
Mary McAndrew (716) 741-4544
Free talk and intro lesson! April 4, 2009 1pm
For full article go to this entry:

Iroquois National Wildlife Refuge, Alabama, NY

Mary McAndrew, naturalist artist guide, will be giving a FREE introductory talk and lesson on “Nature Sketching in the Field” at the Iroquis National Wildlife Refuge. Please bring a sketch pad and pencils; the time of the program is 1pm at the refuge visitors center 1101 Casey Road. To read more about the Iroquois Wildlife Refuge visit their website:

My students trying watercolors for the first time, it was so much fun!


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Saturday, January 23, 2010

To the left, Carolina Wren.

“Everything you own in the box to the left”

Nod and smile. Overhearing a pair of sweet Carolina Wrens in a dispute on the front porch isn’t unusual. Again. They’re at it again. Their warning call, a huge noise from a tiny bird, a raspy eee-eee-eee-eee-eee-eee, is enough to wake a sleeping infant.

Not knowing much about birds in general and Carolina Wrens in particular, I assumed the two were having a lovers’ quarrel. After all, there were two and they seemed to tango. I later learned that was not the case as they are monogamous and rarely “break up”, hence not a lovers’ quarrel. More likely, there was an intruder threatening their space or a hawk nearby, perhaps. I didn’t see a threat to the nest they occupy on the front porch, or a snake, or the Coop who surveys the holly bushes below them. I only saw two snarky Carolina Wrens.

I adore how they prefer living close to the house. They live under the back deck, also. If the door is open, they’ll zip into the garage for a quick inspection. On two occasions, one visited our family room at dinnertime and was smart enough to cooperate with my invitation to freedom. That little Wren escaped through the window I lifted within seconds. Didn’t hesitate. Incredible.

The upturned tail exudes ATTITUDE.

Oooo, she was hot ‘bout something.

Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” came to mind while I stood behind the dining room blinds to photograph the alleged lovers’ spat. I laughed and remembered a few lines of the lyrics,

“You must not know ‘bout me”…

And here is the poor Wren fearing the wild one on the porch...or so I imagined.

(He) hanging back in a front yard tree for safety while she continued her rant…

Then came her hairy eyeball.

“Go ahead and get gone! Call up that chick, and see if she’s home!”
“Standing in the front yard, telling me how I’m such a fool…”

“You must not know ‘bout me
I could have another you by tomorrow
Don’t you ever for a second get to thinkin’
You’re irreplaceable...”

What’s up over there? I’m all about peace, dude.

Minding my own business, man.

Beth said...

OMG Mary - this had to be my favorite of all your posts! That little spitfire singing Beyonce had me cracking up - "You must not know 'bout me"! What an awesome imagination you have. Thanks for the giggles.

forestal said...

very cute, and some nice pictures, mine don' like to hold still for pictures

Robin's Nesting Place said...

The wrens are so cute. I've only briefly caught a glimpse of one the whole time I've lived here. I miss seeing them!

I used to have them nest every spring in an old mailbox in my garden. One time I took the light fixture down on the carport and realized I didn't have a light bulb, before I got home from the store they had started building a nest in the fixture. It was wonderful to see them right outside the kitchen door raising their young.

jason said...

This had me laughing like a little schoolboy, Mary! Too much fun. I love when wrens get into these kinds of "discussions," but I especially like that you showed some of the neighbors who were trying to stay out of the drama. And the photos are pure delight (you captured a lot of personality in those wren shots).

T.R. said...

Brilliant as always! I tried to host IATB again this month -- if for no other reason than to re-reward you with Photographer of the Year again!! You're way ahead of the competition!!!

Julie Zickefoose said...

Adorable! And who am I to say they weren't talking about an interloping female! The worst Carolina wren fight I ever saw was when a second female intruded on the territory of my home pair. The two females were rolling around on the ground, and the homegirl was pecking her in the vent, ow ow ow. What finally happened: the interloper built a nest in the garage; the homegirl stayed in her copper bucket under the eave, and the male tended both broods, which were only about 50' apart. VERY unusual in these genetically monogamous birds.
LOVELY shots and great interpretation. You might be right on the money!

Susan said...

This is great all the onlookers, just staying out of the way. And I'm going to have that song stuck in my head all day now!

eileeninmd said...

Cute shots of the Carolina, Wren, Mary!

Q said...

Dear Mary,
The little Carolina Wrens are darling. I have a pair in one of the hanging wicker baskets by the back door.
I always think the two of them are so cute. They do seem to have an attitude....

Jayne said...

I love how they are just so fearless!

Caroline said...

Can anything scold with more verve that wrens of any sort? I don't have Carolinas here, but the little house wrens that nest every year here are just the same!
2 years ago a house sparrow tried to take over a favored nestbox, Mrs. Wren threw every bit of their nesting material out on to the ground, muttering and swearing every minute she worked.

NatureWoman said...

What a riot, Mary!!!! ROFL! As always, these are awesome photos.

dugfresh said...

i LOVE those things! i can't believe you got such great shots of them! maybe that's the trick: catch 'em when they've got their undies in a bundle, and maybe they won't mind the person over there with the camera...they have bigger matters to attend to.

the wrens are one of my favorite birds. i love their tail feather patterns and their posture. and their sounds, even the raspy "get out of my face" warning.

great shots, once again, and another entertaining story to go with them.

Ruth said...

I have always found wrens to be very reclusive and always on the move. Great pictures as expected!

dugfresh said...

something drew me back to your post. i couldn't put my finger on it at first, but now i know: it was the look of grandmotherly wisdom emanating from the white-throated sparrow. like she just clicked her tongue and said, "ah...young love. those were the days..."

i don't know how you capture so much personality in those birds!

Robert V. Sobczak said...

Terrific photos Mary. You really have a knack with words and photos of giving those birds personalities!

RuthieJ said...

What a great post Mare! It sure brought a smile to my face! I love your little wrens--it must be amazing to have them living so close to you!

Kerri said...

Fabulous post Mary!!

Angie said...

What an adorable post, Mary!!! :)

Cathy said...

Dang. Now I'm going to have to figure out how to Youtube that song 'cause I'm a hopeless culture illiterate.

But I sure could appreciate those lyrics as a caption for those precious wren poses.

The onlookers pixes are a hoot.

"minding my own business!" Har!

Sure glad you don't mind yours, Mary . . .

the world would be short several smiles and chuckles.

Michelle Palmer said...

Your blog is amazing! Such AWESOME photographs of the sweetest friends and your notes...
A favorite!
Wishing you the best~

jeanmac said...

Mary, I hope the birds know they are such "stars" in the blogoshere!

Kathiesbirds said...

Mary, I have had the western counterpart to your wrens hanging around my yard this year-Bewick's wrens! I also get rock wrens and cactus wrens. So much fun to watch and so much attitude like you say. A fun post! Are you going back to New River this year?

Diane said...

What you do with a camera is amazing, Mary! Those little feathered friends move so quickly but you've got your finger on the shutter really fast! Beautiful images!

wncmountainliving said...

Love those little wrens - you have the right 'tude for them. I am a transplant to Nc and live inthe mountains - enjoying it all.

Snappy Di said...

Oh how I enjoy your sense of humor with the bird photos... Wish I could get the shots you do!

The Blue Ridge Gal

dguzman said...

Break it down, playah. You are wonderful.

dAwN said...

hee hee...Your birdies sure are silly!

Suzanne said...

So cute, I just adore little birds.


text:
Woman Documents Battle With Breast Cancer in Touching Time-Lapse

Emily Helck is sharing her battle with breast cancer, one photo at a time.

The 29-year-old New Jersey resident was diagnosed with breast cancer in July 2012. Every week following her diagnosis, Helck took a picture of herself and then turned the photographs into a time lapse to document her personal journey.

The one-minute video is an honest look at the physical transformation she underwent during her treatment, including shaving her head, losing weight and wearing drainage tubes. But Helck's photos also shine a light on her emotional struggles — she rarely smiles in the pictures.

Helck's treatments included a bilateral mastectomy, chemotherapy, radiation and a course of the drug Herceptin.

Helck posted the video on her blog, "Real Tumors of New Jersey" (a play on Bravo's reality TV show Real Housewives of New Jersey) on Sunday. It has garnered almost 250,000 views since then.

“I feel, I don’t know, separate from this person somehow, even though the last photos are from just a few days ago,” she wrote in her blog. “I feel like the girl in the photos made it through pretty unscathed, though the look on her face sometimes makes me sad.”

Helck finished her treatment at the end of August and is currently in the process of reconstruction.

Image: YouTube, Emily Helck


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Friday, May 12, 2006

A day in the life......

Our dogs have it rough.

Lay out in sun, chase birds, rest in shade, and chase each other.

Have you "MADE IT" when your profession gets it's own action figure?

Time to go hit some trails MK.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

The Weekend In Review

The little brother's graduation went well considering he was the only person to walk without a tassle (fashion statement or Z-Pooh moment?). It was great to see the grandparents and parents again. We had a nice little BBQ to celebrate.

The race: I had a great first lap and then imploded. Looks like I need to work some sustained efforts. I ended up rolling in 5th in the SS class. It felt odd not to crash during a race, during cross season I managed to pull off at least one good crash per race. I'll be missing this weekends racing action due to work. Good luck to the revolution squad!!!! Well, I've got to get up to the ER for some quality Male Nurse time.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Real Estate Boom!!!!!!!

This week has been eye opening. Katie and I are seriously considering purchasing a home, but have run into a little problem with the current real estate market in SLC. It's out of control!!!! The magic number for a house in our neighborhood is $259,000 for a thousand square feet and house with many "minor" repairs needed. It's been a challenge to find houses closer to the $200,000 mark that aren't falling apart and are close enough to the Hospital for bike commuting to be possible. I'm not about to move to the burbs because the prices are no better, there are no trees, and I hate driving.
While we could afford to buy a house in our neighborhood at the current prices, we don't want to spend that much money. We like to work the minimum and squeeze the maximum out of our days off. Our lifestyle would undoubtedly change if we were to pay full price for a house in our hood. We don't want to limit our time together just to own a home. So we'll keep looking and hopefully we'll find a deal.
Also, this is a big week for my little brother. He graduates on friday!!!! Congrats Brother!!!! It should be a blast. Both sets of my parents will be in town as well as the grandparents. There's also a mtn bike race on saturday. I'll get some pics up soon.