Elections and Creativity

I've been feeling my creativity seep back in again, and it feels really good. Rusty, but good. I have no illusions that I will reach any sort of regular posting here (have I ever?), but resurrecting a place to occasionally be able to share thoughts feels like a good baby step towards feeding my literary creativity again.

So, to start us off, a poem. A poem that started writing itself on November 6, 2024, the day after the presidential election, and solidified itself over the next couple of days.

November 6

I wake up
And the world is exactly the same.
 
I eat, I breathe, I cook, I read
I work, I parent
I make lists, I cross things off my lists
I hug my children
I kiss my husband
I pet the dog
 
Sometimes I cry
 
I wake up
And the world is completely different.
 
A fundamentality of difference
A bifurcation of realities
Deeper than opinion
Wider than understanding
Longer than lifetimes
More broken than the hands that are supposed to hold us
 
I eat comfort
My breath hastens
I bake cookies
I read poetry that is trying to grasp for explanations, 
        or if not explanations then at least a way forward, 
        some way forward, 
        can we even still imagine a forward?
I work until my head hurts
I parent with as much gentleness as I can muster
I don’t make lists, but I cross some things off
I hug my family because I need to, 
        because family is what we make it, 
        because when our world breaks, 
        family is where we start telling the new story
 
I cry more often
 
I wake up
And my hands look old
Cracks splintering along the skin
Small brown spots proliferating across the decades
I wonder if this is the new reality,
        or one of multiple realities, 
        or just a reality for today, 
        and if my hands will be strong enough for the work that lies ahead
 
I wake up
And the world is exactly the same.
And the world is completely different.
And my family hugs me.
And I reach out to you.
And I hope.

— cmb 11/8/24

Three Poems

September 12th, 2013

Obviously I haven’t kept up with this blog, since it has been four years since I last posted. I wrote half a post in the middle, that I just read and wished I’d finished writing, but never did. It may be a decrepit blog, but really big events require poetry, and sometimes poetry wants to be shared, so here I am.

It has been a big few years: Dave and I moved to Seattle, got married, and I finished my dissertation and became Dr. Cristie. But the very biggest event happened in April, with the birth of our first baby. I understand a lot more about parents now, because it’s true that your life immediately changes when that baby enters the world and becomes your world. I also understand more about mothers, because wow, bringing a baby into the world takes an immense amount of effort, however you do it!

So. I birthed a baby (at home). The baby needed a poem. The birth needed a poem. And then the midwives needed a poem. It may have taken me five months to birth these poems into the world, but here they are. To everyone who helped with the experience that made these poems possible: thank you. You’re amazing. I can’t imagine having done it without you.

Zephyr

You are a maker of entrances
arm-raising victories
of waiting and drama and intensity

You are a bundle of warmth
a curled puddle in my arms
limp-limbed and full-bellied

You are forty-one weeks and five days of anticipation
five hours of strength and pain
one moment of determination
one moment of flying

You are my crackle-skinned joy
molting into kissable cheeks
plumping fingers and toes
bright eyes widening at windows

You are milk-faced distractibility
an epic of squirm
with a final chapter of melted satisfaction

You are my challenge
my new meaning
my wonder
my forever-changed.

4/17-4/27, 2013

Zephyr at 1 month and 4.5 months



Sixty Seconds

So much nestles in that moment
filling it to over brim
expanding the walls of temporal possibility

I curl around my belly
clutching my feet as if I can kiss my toes

I have worked so hard
my body’s preparations smoothing the passage
between my bones
until betrayed by my flesh

Can I be too healthy to give birth?
Can I be too strong?

In that moment I strain
wondering if this is possible
until I hear words floating toward me
baby and heartbeat and episiotomy

She says I have to do it now and
I suddenly find the impossible
as if I am more than my body
as if I have been given the strength
of a thousand mothers before me

I pull on my feet
clenching my belly
roaring with strength and pain and desperation

And in that moment
he arrives
with his own roar
his own essence
his own possibilities.

-- 4/30/13

New Zephyr

My Midwives
(to Taylor and Christine, with gratitude and love)

I want to write a poem for my midwives
like I did for my son and my self
I want them to know they are worthy
of my words and creativity
of my occasional attempts at eloquence

I want to write a poem for my midwives
to capture their meaning inside verse
to somehow disentangle my thoughts and memories into words

But how can I possibly describe the primal trust
sourced so deep in my belly that
I remember it even when I have forgotten myself
when my world has condensed into
this motion
this pain
this sound
this pattern
and I can still hear a voice and listen
trusting

How can I explain the space where
I no longer believe I am capable
yet I must believe because they do
and because they believe in me I do
so I find the strength to
move this way
rise that way
bend there
push here
as she tells me and I listen
believing

How can I express the comfort
in knowing they know me
that I will be heard
that my desires
and wishes
and hopes
have been accepted
that I speak and they listen
comforting

I want these words to fit together better
to birth a complicated loving completeness
like I birthed a complicated loving being

I want to honor these women
and their work and their love
that they spread to enchant so many new lives
and somehow
I want them to know
deep down in their bellies
how special my memories are
because they are here.

5/23/13

Midwives Extraordinaire

On Grandmothers and Blogging and School

October 19th, 2009

My grandmother mentioned to me a few months ago that “none of the grandchildren blog anymore,” and while some of us do on occasion, she was also quite correct that we’re not as regular about it as we were. And to be honest, I’ve never been good at writing regularly here - too many other things going on! But I thought maybe it was time to write a post, and especially since I’m starting a whirlwind of writing academic material, my brain might appreciate some expression that’s more creative rather than scientific.

But I’ve also been a little bit caught in thinking that every post I write has to be eloquent and well-structured and thoughtful and perfect, and I’m starting to realize that if I hold myself to that standard, I really will never get around to writing anything. And if my grandmother wants to know what I’m up to on occasion, who am I to argue? So here I am, to give you a little update on me and my life, and to state an intention that I would like to write here more often, even if it’s only a paragraph or small thought at a time.

It’s hard to say whether teaching or “dissertating” is a bigger thing for me right now. The dissertation of course casts a longer shadow, and I am slowly but surely trying to actually get some momentum going on writing it. Everyone seems to believe I’ll be graduating in June, so somehow I need to make it happen! This fall, I managed to finally get my dynamic state variable model working, which was ridiculously exciting (one of my favorite things about modeling is that there’s suddenly a point at which “it works,” and it’s a much more obvious milestone than writing a paper is), and then I promptly realized that my understanding of how to go about exploring the model and its outcomes is extremely limited. So my next step with the modeling is to learn how to explore the model, now that I’ve coded it and gotten it to work. And here I thought that part would be easy!

Okay, this isn’t a picture of me dissertating, but that looks pretty boring, so it’s a picture of me helping on an archaeological excavation up the coast over the summer!

Teaching, on the other hand, doesn’t have such a looming deadline at the end of the year, but must happen at least three days a week, and requires all the relevant prep time and energy on a regular basis. I love the teaching, and I once again have fabulous students this quarter, just as I did during summer session. In the summer, I taught Introduction to Archaeology, and was glad I knew the material really well since it all had to be taught in a five week period (an 11 week quarter’s worth of information). It was exhausting, but the students were champs, and I think we had a good time together. And judging from my teaching evaluations that I just received today, it happily seems like they agree with me! This quarter I’m teaching North American Archaeology, material which I know pretty well for some geographic regions, and very little about for other regions. Once again, my students are participatory and engaged and enthusiastic, which is both challenging and rewarding. Challenging because I really do have to know my stuff, and it doesn’t take a lot for them to catch me on things I don’t know. Rewarding because they’re making me learn the material as best as I possibly can before going in to lecture, and I love that they ask me questions and interact with me - the back and forth is one of my favorite things about teaching. I have three students that took Intro to Archaeology with me in the summer, and four students that had me as a TA in previous years for other classes, so it’s nice to know I haven’t scared them off, and even, in a couple of cases, that I got them really excited about archaeology.

Students from Intro to Archaeology walking a transect on the field as they learn how to survey an archaeological site

So I am happy with what I’m doing right now, amidst being overwhelmed and frustrated on a pretty regular basis. If only there were 48 hours in a day, if only academic writing weren’t like pulling my own teeth, if only I didn’t like to do so many other things in my life as well, if only I didn’t have to eat or sleep or shower... The “if only’s” stack up sometimes, and I just try to remind myself that I do what I can, and what happens will happen. Usually all it takes is one really good night’s sleep, and I feel like I can tackle everything head on again!

And that’s all for now, folks. :)

Dave and me, on our one-year-since-we-met anniversary in July

A poem

In Memory of Jim McGough, 1948-2009

Jim

I didn’t see Jim every day
not every week
nor even every month

But over six years of living here
Jim would occasionally walk through my life
always with a smile
always wondering how was I doing
what was I up to
how was school

Perpetually early
he was always surprised to find me at home
and when I was packing to leave
he would be adamant I not worry about him
and be on my way

When I had time though
we would talk
about me
about him
about my research
about the book he was writing

I would leave him cookies on the counter
he would insist I share his pastries

I didn’t see Jim every day
not every week
nor even every month

But now I think of him every day
and now that he’s gone
I realize how big of a presence he truly was.


-cmb, May 7th, 2009

Recent moments

April 16th, 2009

Moment 1.
The fields on campus are blooming purple, small flowers blanketing the hillsides with my favorite color. Christina tells me the flowers are called “stork’s bills,” and I almost don’t believe her until she brings in one of the plants to show me. A purple blossom adorns part of the plant, but incredibly long, pointed, green spikes also extend outwards. “Stork’s bill” suddenly becomes appropriate and understandable. I’m sad to learn that this little flower that covers the fields in purple is an invasive species.

Moment 2.
It’s early in the morning, and I’m biking to the shuttle to get up to campus. The air is thick with fog, salt, kelp, and cold. The ocean often intrudes like this, reaching inland and reminding us that we live on the edge of a vast expanse of water with its own climate. The fog will burn off by mid-morning, but often returns again as the sun sets. On those nights, while lying in bed, I can hear the lighthouse calling warnings into the darkness, accompanying the regular chorus of sea lions.

Moment 3.
She’s so close to the shore, this particular sea otter, closer than one normally gets to see. She’s doing sea otter things, rolling around to stay wet, diving under water to get food, splitting it open to eat. But after several moments of watching, we can also see that she has a baby sea otter on her belly. The little otter seems to cling plenty well enough to stay attached during the rolls, but also keeps jumping off to swim around on its own. Occasionally it tries to follow its mother on a dive, but doesn’t appear to have learned that skill particularly well yet, as it arches into the water over and over until it finally gets under for a brief moment. The mother lets the baby swim around, but big waves lead her to swim over and swoop it back up onto her belly with her tail. The interaction is endearing and mesmerizing, and hard to leave behind.

Moment 4.
Red has overtaken the previous purple, and the cows lounge around in their self-cropped fields. Across the road, where the cows will be moved next week, the plants have grown a couple feet high, and are dominated by white and yellow gangly flowers. It looks like rich eating, and I imagine the cows thrilled as they’re let out of their well-grazed pasture and led into belly-deep food. I don’t think it’s such a bad life being a cow on the UCSC campus.

Colors of a Live Earth Farm winter

February 7th, 2009

One of the things I try to be consciously thankful for on a regular basis is the local, organic produce that can be easily acquired while living on California’s central coast. I love vegetables, so it’s not hard to fully enjoy eating them, but I like to remind myself just how lucky I am to live in a place where I can get a remarkable variety of produce year-round.

For the last two years, I’ve bought into a cropshare program (or CSA: community supported agriculture), where I pay at the beginning of the season for my entire share, and then I get a box of vegetables delivered every week. My farm is called Live Earth Farm, and it’s pretty much the best farm ever (Shaleece will back me up on this). :) It’s located in Watsonville, and is just under 20 miles from my house, so it’s hard to get much more local than that. They deliver to several drop off points in Santa Cruz (and over the hill), so each week I walk three blocks to pick up my box of heaping vegetables. During the summer, the box comes with one or two baskets of strawberries every week, practically worth the cost of the box right there. It’s the best deal available in terms of price and quality, and it’s all organic. They are also the best vegetables and fruits I’ve ever tasted. Seriously.

So, their summer season lasts from April through November, and then you have the option of extending through the winter season, December through March. One might think that the winter season would be all cabbage and root vegetables, but you’d be surprised. There certainly is an abundance of cabbage (fortunately, I like cabbage), and a wide variety of root vegetables (carrots, parsnips, rutabaga, beets, etc.) that are wonderful roasted, but also lots of cooking greens, apples, brussels sprouts, onions, winter squash, romanesco, and so on. Despite being in the middle of January here, my box still comes packed full of richly colored, delectable edibles. My farm even cans their own tomatoes during the summer, and makes jam from their own apricots, so that we get jars of summer flavors during the winter.

I like having a farm that I can call “my farm.” I like being connected to the place that grows my food, to see pictures every week of what is growing, to hear stories of planting, and to have even had my hands in my farm’s soil (during their yearly harvest festival). I have neither the time nor the green thumb to grow my own food right now, so this is the next best thing. With the last winter box, Heidi was so taken with the beautiful colors that were stacked up on the countertop that we decided to take a few pictures. And so, I give you, the colors of a Live Earth Farm winter. :)

A New President

January 20th, 2009

This morning, I woke up, made myself a cup of tea, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV. This is not my usual routine; in fact, I rarely turn on the TV at any time of day, much less first thing in the morning. But today was an unique day, a day when Barack Obama was sworn in as 44th President of the United States of America. I have cared enough about politics to write letters to the president at least since I was ten (see below!). I have cared enough about politics to vote, for my entire life as a voting-age citizen. I have cared enough about politics to volunteer, to make phonecalls, to donate money, for at least the last five years. I have never cared enough about politics to watch an inauguration ceremony, until this year. I wish I could have been in D.C.

There are a lot of reasons why I was excited about today. Admittedly, I was ready for the kind of hope and energy that Obama brings to office - I think hope is a good thing, as is appealing to the best parts of people’s personalities. And I hope that Obama will find a way to heal our country and our place in the world. I hope that Obama will truly tackle climate change, health care, human rights, and all of those other issues that need addressing in addition to the economy. I think he really has a chance to do it, despite our country’s current understandable preoccupation with the economy. I wish him the best of luck.

But in addition to all of that, it really was remarkable to see the first African-American inaugurated as president. I thought I might see it in my lifetime, but certainly not this soon. I can’t imagine what it must be like for people who lived through the civil rights movement in the 1950s and 1960s.

Two quotes stood out for me, as I watched Obama give his speech. As a scientist, “We will restore science to its rightful place” was a particularly welcome phrase to hear. And as an American, I was moved by this: “This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed - why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.”

This morning, I drank tea, watched the inauguration, and cried when Obama was sworn into office. Tonight, I find myself anticipating hearing what his policy announcements will be tomorrow. What an amazing part of history to be a part of.

Below, just for the fun of it, is my first recorded (i.e., saved on my computer) letter to a politician. I was ten.


November 28, 1988
Vice-President Bush
Washington, D.C.

Dear Vice-President Bush,
Congratulations on winning the election!
I think to pay off the debts we owe without raising taxes, you could take part of the money, like 1/2 or 1/4, that is paying for research on weapons and use it to handle the deficit.

Why do you oil drill along the coast? It kills a lot of animals that live on our coast line and destroys habitats. One of these days we will run out of oil and nobody will know what to do. I think you should start doing more research on solar power and other things.

I think you should stop sending weapons to Nicaragua. You could keep signing peace treaties to destroy some of our weapons and slow down the arms race. I think it would be neat to have a world full of peace. Then we wouldn't have a lot of danger of some place being blown up. If we keep working our way to peace we will have a kinder and gentler nation just like you wanted!

Sincerely,

Cristie Boone
5th Grade

Final thoughts from Guatemala (August 13, 2008)

I want to remember the corn growing up the sides of mountains that look too steep to climb. I can't imagine what effort it must take to plant corn on such slopes, nor to harvest it. I can't imagine a life that makes such effort worth the return. I know that clearing forest to plant the corn worsens erosion and shrinks natural habitat, but the corn looks beautiful as it spills down the hillsides.


I want to remember the vibrancy of the Chichicastenango market, the colorful fabrics, the beautiful vegetables and fruits, and most of all the nearly hidden middle of the market where the local people cook and eat and shop and sell for themselves, not just the tourists. I had the best fried chicken of my life in the center of Chichi's Thursday market, and the following day a delicious traditional breakfast of eggs and beans. They came with chile powder and jalapeños as optional condiments, the chile powder described as "picante" (spicy), and the fresh sliced jalapeños described as "non picante" (not spicy). I want to remember the essential sound of Chichi's market - the clapping arising from so many women continuously making fresh corn tortillas by hand throughout the day. Fresh corn tortillas come with every meal here, as well they should.



I want to remember how many things are transported by carrying or by bicycle here. Giant loads of cloths or other street stand goods are bundled up into blankets, or large baskets in turn wrapped in blankets. With creative tying, the ends of the blankets are brought across the shoulders and chest, or sometimes the forehead, and then walked down the street. I don't know how much some of those bundles weighed, but I'm sure the weight they carry with their bodies would put our strength to shame. No ergonomic considerations here, no workers comp or sense that something might be too heavy or too hard to carry. It just gets done, because it has to, and frequently happens over steep hills that we Americans breathe heavily while walking up when we're not carrying anything.

I want to remember how frustrating it is to only be able to understand so much, and to say even less. My Spanish improved throughout the trip, but I would like to know more before returning to a Spanish speaking country. I am learning to formulate my questions, but am missing a lot of the language structure that I think would help. Living in California, it probably is about time I really tried to learn some Spanish.

I want to remember how beautiful the mountains and valleys and volcanoes of Guatemala are. The pine forests of the highlands, the jungle of the lowlands, and the pervasive farmlands each have their own personality and their own draw. The jungle in particular grows plants and animals in sizes and shapes I'm thoroughly not used to. Toucans with their giant beaks and tiny streamlined bodies, howler monkeys that sound like dying or injured animals at 3 o'clock in the morning, the gigantic larvae of something, the funny lizard guy that ran upright on two legs when startled, an insect that makes sounds like a sprinkler alternating with an electric wood saw...



I want to remember how to make traveling days part of the adventure, to be happy with a space on the bus even if it's only half a seat, and to be willing to just go with what happens because sometimes you just can't figure out what's going on. I want to remember that fruit should always be mouthwatering, that tortillas should always be hot off the griddle, that lemonade should always be fresh, and the milk for your coffee served steamed. I want to remember that taking a complete break from work is refreshing, invigorating, renewing, and healthy.

To adventures, journeys, and experiences...

Lessons and moments from Antigua and beyond (August 6, 2008)

(reposted from email earlier this summer)

Hi all! Been a bit of time since I've had enough internet access to write out a letter, but I have kept track of some moments to share. Enjoy. :)

Lessons and Moments from Livingston, Antigua, Pacaya volcano, Coban, Semuc Champey, and On the Road:

-- When life puts a Mayan woman with chile spiced mango in your path, buy it, and get it Guatemalan style, with lime and salt and chile powder and that other seasoning that's so good. Eat it, and try not to moan too loudly in public. Go back for "uno mas" (one more).

-- Sometimes when you buy a ticket for a tour, you get a seat on the bus. Sometimes you only get half a seat.

-- Seeing numerous Guatemalan men in drag dancing together in the street is both highly unexpected and entertaining.

-- I have now been about three feet away from molten rock on an active volcano. Just how thick is that cooled crust on the lava flow, again?

-- Boys no more than 10 years old are perfectly capable of riding horses, renting them to tourists, and guiding them up and down a volcano.

-- If arriving in Antigua in a downpour, wear sandals or waders, or your hiking boots are likely to take several days for the street juice to dry out. (Street? What street? I see a river!)

-- Do not stay at a hostel named "Jungle Party."

-- Sometimes having a whole fish in your soup is a good thing.

-- Not having water in your hostel for 12 hours straight is a bad thing.

-- Hot showers should be thoroughly and utterly appreciated whenever they're available.

-- Natural pools you can swim in on top of a natural limestone bridge are both stunningly beautiful and the perfect temperature. Climbing down a rope ladder to crawl behind a waterfall and along a raging river that is boiling back up after plunging underground several hundred feet is a little less serene than the swimming, but an unforgettable experience.

-- Fireflies!

-- "Free internet" means you can never get on it because the line's always too long.

-- I have now ridden on one bus with fried chicken, three buses with live chickens, and one true "chicken bus" (that we actually managed to find and it took us to the right place, and a fellow passenger made sure we got off!). The chicken buses are all old American school buses. The "luxury" buses are all old Greyhounds. All of the drivers are crazy.

-- On every bus ride, something happens that makes me realize I have no idea what's going on.

-- Sleeping in a treehouse is FUN.

-- If you are actually from Louisville, Kentucky, you pronounce it LOO-ih-vul, with a nearly non-existent "ih" sound, and swallowing the "vul."

-- When you order lemonade here, it's always fresh.

-- A small rip in your jeans can very quickly become large when you take a big step (this is mainly a problem when the rip is horizontal along the back and would make for a very short pair of shorts).

-- Bats are cool. Bat guano combined with cave muck all over the one remaining pair of pants is not so cool.

-- La grande cuchara es para frijoles, y la pequeña cuchara es para la crema (the big spoon is for the beans, and the little spoon is for the cream).

-- Construction, even that tossing very large rocks down a hillside towards the road, stops for nothing and no one. The bus simply waits for a period when only small rocks are tumbling down, and then floors it.

-- A 15 person van (minibus) holds at least 25 people.

I can't believe I'm coming home in less than a week!

Tikal is amazing (July 28, 2008)

(reprinted from email this summer)

Hello all!

Life in Guatemala is definitely an adventure, particularly the getting money part. Not only are ATMs more often broken than not, they also run out of money pretty quickly, and most commonly only accept Visa/Plus and both Lacey and I have Mastercard/Star. :P We are learning to acquire a good chunk of money when possible, and not assume that getting it will be easy.

It's all part of the adventure though, and we are having a great adventure. We went up to Tikal 

this weekend, and two hours in the afternoon of my birthday were spent wandering around the "Gran Plaza" of Tikal, sitting on the top of one of the pyramids, and watching dusk come and all the birds fly by and call out, and the insects get louder and the monkeys call too. It was pretty 

magical. At dinner afterwards, a family (from Quebec?) who had heard it was my birthday up on the pyramid and was then sitting at the table next to us, came over and wished me a happy 

birthday and bought Lacey and I "limonadas" (lemonades). It was very nice of them! I had a couple people that day tell me that I would never be able to top this birthday, so I´ll have to come up with something spectacular for my next decadal birthday. :)

We rented hammocks at the campground in Tikal - the campground guy, Gonzalo, set up these ingenious little hammock/net contraptions for us that hung off of support beams underneath a thatch roof that was otherwise open to the world. The hammocks were low enough to the ground that the mosquito nets fell to the cement platform so that those biting bugs couldn't get in. So we slept through the night treated to the sounds of the jungle, and boy was it loud! There are either really big insects that are out there, or little insects that make really big sounds. I expect it's the former, based on some of the insects I saw while I was there: the biggest ant, grasshopper, and unidentifiable giant bug at the very least that I have ever seen! The howler monkeys started up around 3 in the morning, but didn't go for long. They sound sort of like you would expect a high-pitched sea lion screaming in pain to sound like. Crazy.

Anyway, yesterday we traipsed around Tikal for five hours in the morning, breaked for lunch, and then wandered for another three hours, and still didn't see everything. I definitely felt sated though, not to mention exhausted and badly in need of a shower. :P They let you climb on many of the ruins in Tikal, so while there was a little archaeologist part of me that cringed at walking on top of ruins, I couldn't exactly NOT do it, so I tried to fully enjoy every moment. Not that hard really. :) We learned that some of the coolest little rooms and passageways were to be found in the backs of the buildings, so we started really doing some exploring and found several groups of bats!

We got back to Flores yesterday evening, and are staying in a hostel with lots of character, two parrots, and a vegetarian restaurant (the only one in Peten, they say), run by a Dutch guy named Matthias who does yoga in the mornings. We had a delicious burrito last night kind of Italian style, with tomato sauce and parmesan cheese on top, but with the typical beans and rice and salsa on the side. Yum! And I had a $2 cocktail that was basically a strawberry banana smoothie spiked with rum. Also yum. :)

Today we´re taking it easy, but hoping to make it down to Ixobel today, where there is a hostel in the pine forest that's supposed to be a great place to relax, swim, hike, etc. Though my legs are sore enough today I might pass on the hiking for a day. :) From there we´re undecided, though we know we want to go to Semuc Champey (limestone bridge and underground pools), Antigua, back to Guatemala City for the museums, and out to the western highlands. We'll see what order that takes place in!

To those of you who have sent me little messages - thanks so much! It's lovely to hear from you. :) I have no idea if I'll be able to respond to everything, but I appreciate every note.

This has been a fabulous birthday trip so far, and I'm excited to see what happens next. :)

Love to you all.

Arrival in Guatemala! (July 24, 2008)

(reposted from email earlier this year)

Hi friends and family!

Some of you know I was heading off to Guatemala for my 30th birthday with my cousin Lacey. Some of you didn't know, but I thought I'd put you on the list anyway. :) We arrived tonight about 45 minutes late, expecting to be able to both get money out of an ATM, and be picked up by the hostel we were staying at. Well, the one ATM in the international arrivals terminal was out of order, there seemed to be no sign of the folks supposed to be picking us up, and of *course* there was no working phone in sight. So much for that easy-going plan. :P

A very nice taxi-organizing man allowed us to use his cell phone to call the hostel, where they assured us there was someone waiting for us at the airport. But after 40 minutes of looking-and-not-finding, we took his offer of a taxi and made it to the hostel. Fortunately, many places in Guatemala will also take American dollars in addition to the local Quetzals, and even more fortunately we had American dollars on us, so we were able to pay for both the taxi and the hostel tonight. Already an adventure!

It was beautiful flying in, looking at the blue(!) traffic lights arranged in curves and amongst a lot of black. I'm very curious to see what it looks like when I fly out during the day. Tomorrow we are hoping to get out of Guatemala City and take a bus up to Flores and thence to Tikal. If we can manage to get tickets, we'll be going on the $25 "luxury'' bus. :)

It was nice to find internet so easy our first night, but I have no idea how likely that will continue. Hopefully you'll all hear from me a few more times on this trip!

In the meantime, happy July! :)

Introduction

Well, here I am. Thanks Graham. ;)

I'm here because I wanted a space to occasionally write down those thoughts or stories that surface out of life. Hence the name. Perhaps it's the part of me that wants a little more creativity in my current existence, an outlet for writing that is purely what I want it to be and doesn't require research. An opportunity to be silly or serious, thoughtful or ridiculous. And to be honest, this blog now exists in large part because I occasionally go somewhere interesting enough that I want to keep my friends and family updated, but I have gotten worse and worse at remembering email addresses when I leave. My cousin, Graham, gave me rather a hard time when I returned from my last trip, for not including him on the list (I deserved it). This way, everyone should be happy!

So, a blog. It is unlikely to be updated very often, but will be on occasion, and an RSS feed is a wonderful thing. :) To start things off, I will upload my few updates from a trip to Guatemala earlier this year, which many of you may have read, but some of you may not have (see above statement about choosing the wrong email addresses). Hopefully that's a good beginning!

Speaking of good beginnings... Happy new year, and may you all have a wonderful 2009!