Tis the Season

A friend just sent an email out listing some great non-profits that are looking for money before the end of the year. Despite the state of the economy, many of us could still do more for others. Consider checking out the list at the following address.

Peace.

http://inspiredlegacies.org/resources/tippingpointfund.htm

PNewL PNewS Volume 16, Issue 4

PNewL PNewS
Volume 16 No. 4 “All the pnews that phits.” December 2008

Oh What a Jumbled Life I Weave

Sometimes I think of myself as a self-aware person and then something happens and I recognize that I am clueless. Like I wind up in a house that I lived in off and on for seven years, and I think it will be a mini-vacation with no emotional upheavals. Who am I kidding?

Within 24 hours of arriving on Sanibel, I couldn’t stop crying. It started when I finished “Bowling Across America,” and he talked about missing his dad, and about bowling and family and life. It made me think about my life and happy bowling times), and this being my parent’s home and then my home where I actually found my people and the familiar feels so good.

And Peter and I meant to write a book like “Bowling Across America” only different and how come I seem to have good ideas but never follow through. (See my blog for more) And while life in North Carolina is feeling remarkably good, it’s nothing like returning to the familiar and being the prodigal child. Gini was the one who pointed out the “duh” factor of this whole transition. And Carolyn who has been in this position confirmed it was “normal” to be a wreck. And that helps, I suppose. And as Mom always said, “This too shall pass.”

A couple weeks later, I am facing significant construction projects and the holidays and am oddly looking forward to going “home,” and can’t wait to come back here (so much for being in the moment) but the sky is blue, the breezes are soft, the salty warm musky smells drift in when I sleep. Ups and downs. Life is good.

-----

Things I am Learning
& Miscellaneous Observations

• Perhaps it’s just me but doesn’t it seem like we get a new phone book every couple months?
• In Bhutan, there is a national dress and it is handsome. Men wear ghos which are more complicated than they look. Lonely Planet describes them as “a long robe… [they] hoist the gho to knee length and hold it in place with a woven cloth belt [which] is tightly wound around the waist, and the large pouch formed over it is traditionally used to carry…” anything, including lunch and files and well…anything! I loved the concept and some of our chillip group bought ghos and looked smashing in them. I envied the large pouch and so in Cambodia purchased a cloth bag/purse ($3—probably paid too much) and it held everything including groceries, books, my purse, binoculars and more. When I was in the market, I kept saying I didn’t need a bag, I could put it in here and the women would inevitably peer in with amazement at the seemingly bottomless pit.

Oh back to Bhutan, the women wear kiras which are also more complicated …they are a rectangular piece of cloth that is wrapped around and somehow fastened with clips at the shoulders but can be simplified with a skirt, and an under blouse and a jacket- sorta top. I got the jacket part but skipped the rest. The fabric combinations were fascinating. I am not sure what the fashion police would say (we are talking not just stripes with plaids but clashing colors), but it worked there. I like the idea of a national uniform. It sure would simplify things and the Bhutanese options are very attractive…and the teeny kids in them are darling. Aw heck, the kids there are all just darling. (There is more about my trip to Bhutan on my blog.)
• Cell phone numbers are now available to telemarketers. Call the National DO NOT CALL list at 888-382-1222 from your cell phone or go to http://www.donotcall.gov/.
• Worried about failing eyesight, I was pretty impressed at my relief when I cleaned my glasses and realized my eyes are fine.
• I’m getting really frustrated by photographs. Experiences are so much bigger—the frame cuts the experience down. So many times on my Asian trip I thought/wished I could really remember the experience—the sights, sounds, smells, vastness…the vista of the rice paddies dotted with houses, the houses dotted with chilies drying on their roofs…the light that the butter lamps cast on the altar in the temple, the people who just want their pictures taken and to see it on the screen of the digital camera. All those images have to be mini movie files in my brain ‘cause the single image just doesn’t capture it.
• I never know when I go to the best place first until later.
• Experiences—like the group part of my trip to Bhutan—often seem to end with a whimper rather than a bang. There we were at baggage claim at the Bangkok airport and there were a few goodbyes and then poof. It was over. The end of my whole trip was also a big anti-climax: After close to 30 hours of being upright, I got into my car and drove the 2 ¼ hours from Charlotte to my house. No one welcomed me home, no one at the airport celebrated my successful voyage. It’s kind of funny—it seems to warrant a big brass band and what I get is…well…bed.
• Netflix Alert: I am on a listserv with a bunch of really interesting people, not to mention I have superbly interesting friends and so I keep getting great suggestions of movies I should watch and instead of writing them down, I use my Netflix queue to store that data. Among episodes of “Sex and the City”, “Six Feet Under” and “McLeod’s Daughters” (fun Australian soap about women running a cattle station), I just saw “Natural History of the Chicken” (thanks Evie) and “King Corn”, two really interesting documentaries…very different. The first one is oddly titled, but very entertaining and the latter is making me re-think how I eat. (The woman who recommended “King Corn” has another one coming out about pigs…I can’t wait.) I have many other titles in my queue which come from many sources and it will be interesting to try to remember why they are there by the time they surface. A related note: I recently rented “Lara Croft Tomb Raider” to see the tree that I just saw in Cambodia. Never again will I rent a movie just to see a tree that I actually saw--unless the reviews are better. Life is too short or something like that.
• Speaking of changing eating habits, I was reading the NRDC magazine “OnEarth” and found I may have to re-think the beer I drink. In the Winter 2009 issue, writer Ben Carmichael is attempting to be a locavore when it comes to beer drinking. This is a problem if you live in a lot of the country because hops and barley don’t grow everywhere. The bottom line is drinking a craft brew is way better than drinking one of the big brands. They have a pile of chemicals in them just to “stabilize the foamy head.”
• If you want job security, go to work for Verizon Technical Support (and add Comcast Tech to that too). I can’t see that they will ever NOT need these folks.
• And now for something totally fun: go to http://ecodrivingusa.com/ and click on Virtual Road Test. It’s like a video game only environmentally oriented, and it’s very funny for those of us with lousy hand eye coordination.
• Looking back at “Bowling the West”: go to http://pnewlpnews.blogspot.com

HAPPY MERRY HOHOHO. Here’s to a brighter future.
With lots of good thoughts from the editorial staff here at PNewL PNewS.

----

Things I am Thankful For
I find myself mid-way between the time of giving thanks and making resolutions. For now…I am thankful for
• New neighbors and friends in a new and welcoming place
• Old friends (that is…long term—we are not really that old…) and old neighbors (some of them!)
• Travel
• Relative good health
• I will probably never have to eat bugs. (This is the way I remind myself that my situation, no matter how the economy tanks, is nowhere near what many others in the world face every day.)

Bowling the West: RIP

While many of you won’t remember and many others weren’t reading this back then, once upon a time, my brother Peter and I had a project we called "Bowling the West." We were going to tour the western states, one of us driving while the other was tapping away on a laptop with our observations of bowling alleys and the culture that surrounds them. And then it would become a phenomena with trendy gear and guest appearances. The series would eventually cover the country: “Bowling the Eastern Seaboard”, “Bowling the Midwest” etc. and eventually even, “Bowling the Provinces, eh?” and “Bowling the EU.”

Recently, Evie called to say she had read a review in the local paper of a book called “Bowling Across America: 50 States in Rented Shoes” (Mike Walsh, St Martin’s Press). I went to my local bookstore and ordered it, ostensibly for Peter for Christmas, but mostly because I wanted to see a) if this guy did a better job than we would have and b) how he managed to get it done and we didn’t.

First of all, it’s not the book we would have written. We wanted ours, of course, to be funny—bowling for most of us is just plain funny—but also to include nuts and bolts information with reviews of not only the bowling facility but also, the snack bar, bathrooms, and safety issues--a travelogue of bowling alleys skewed by our perspective of the world. On the other hand, “Bowling Across America” is a pretty good book. He gets you hooked in with a story about the death of his father who had always wanted to play handball in all 50 states… and off he goes. I would say he has three reasons for his success:

• The subtitle. It’s brilliant and catchy and with “50 States in Rented Shoes” you know he’s not trying to be terribly serious here.


• He’s young (27) and has nothing to lose. His mother loans him her car and he sleeps on friend’s (and friends of friends) couches.


• He spent five years in advertising and wrote press releases and was on radio shows all over the country and a few TV shows. He also solicited sponsorships and again, so far, he actually got one: Miller High Life. I am impressed

It takes some pressure off, knowing that yet another book I thought I could write has been written. This is not all good but it makes me want to write the other three in the pipeline that no one has written yet...just to say I beat someone to the punch. I still think Bowling the West paraphenalia would have made us a lot of money, but not perhaps in this economy.

The Coronation of the New King of Bhutan

The new King, Jigme Khesar Namgyei Wangchuck, has taken the throne in Bhutan...well, actually he has been King for a couple years but they couldn't find an auspicious date to crown him until this year (Astrology is big there. I found this to be true in Cambodia too—if one falls in love with someone born in the "wrong" year, that's it, forget about it.). Mike, one of my fellow travelers, put the new King's coronation speech on his blog (http://www.theurbanbrain.com/denver/2008/11/08/kings-coronation-in-bhutan/#more-1608)
I cut and pasted my favorite part here. Perhaps I will send it to our President-elect.

It is with immense gratitude and humility that at this young age, I assume the sacred duty to serve a special people and country. Throughout my reign I will never rule you as a king. I will protect you as a parent, care for you as a brother and serve you as a son. I shall give you everything and keep nothing; I shall live such a life as a good human being that you may find it worthy to serve as an example for your children; I have no personal goals other than to fulfill your hopes and aspirations. I shall always serve you, day and night, in the spirit of kindness, justice and equality.

My Morning Walk, Election Day 2008

And please, vote. Thank you.

When two lanes become four or five: On the road in Cambodia

I knew that taking a tuk-tuk in from the airport might be a bad decision, that an AC taxi would be more comfortable and perhaps faster, less dangerous and less like smoking a pack of cigarettes in 30 minutes but think of the fun I would have missed! Traffic in Phnom Penh is a frantic flurry of chaos, a ballet of cars, bicycles, tuk-tuks, motorcycles and the occasional brave (or stupid) pedestrian. It’s like the opening of the Beijing Olympics, only in the daytime and without fireworks.

I spent eight days in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap. It was an eye-opening experience, especially after being in Bhutan where happiness is a huge part of the culture. It seems to me that Cambodia is struggling under a heavy load of history and poverty. A Canadian woman I met who was attempting to volunteer there had heard that the population is very young, like 50% are under 16. She said, “They are doing the best they can with little leadership and the best of intentions, but no experience.”

While in Phnom Penh, I visited the National Museum which contains a beautiful collection of Khmer sculpture and is housed in a really neat building, and the Royal Palace, a mini-version of the Bangkok Royal Palace. Both are good places to take a break from the constant inquiries of tuk-tuk drivers, and children selling water and postcards. On the other side of the spectrum is the Tuol Sleng Museum. It is a devastating reminder of the Khmer Rouge atrocities, housed in the actual building where torture took place. (There were hundreds of places just like this.) These are tough images to shake. Being an ostrich with her head in the sand, it was hard to believe that a tragedy of this proportion could have happened in my lifetime, but it did and well, it is happening now in other parts of our world.

My favorite thing to do in Phnom Penh was wander despite the fact that it was extremely hot and the sidewalks are used for parking lots, making walking a challenge. I walked for a while and then sat somewhere for a beverage and then walked to the next place. The buildings are in a variety of styles and conditions. There would be small shops next to grand bright shiny banks next to a market that was in disrepair down the street from a bright shiny mall. ‘Twas a good place to wander.

After a painless six hour bus ride I arrived in Siem Reap, home to a zillion temples, among them Angkor Wat. (En route, I watched the scene along the road, grateful that I didn’t have to live there. The houses were simple wooden buildings, on stilts, with no screens on the glass-less windows and not much evidence of doors or anything inside needing to be kept under lock and key. There were often basic bridges of bamboo crossing the small ravine that ran along the highway. So very different from my comfort zone.),

I went to the temples on a bicycle and was so thankful I did. En route, I met a young British woman who kept me company on our 30+ km ride. I have to say Angkor Wat was not my favorite. It was massive and impressive and amazing, but others were more fun to wander around. And being on bikes, without a guide, we were free to see them at our own pace. There was also the mystery of having no clue what was going on, which we both enjoyed. My favorite was Ta Prohm which is famous for being in the “Tomb Raider” movie with Angelina Jolie. It is being taken over by fig trees—it’s very cool looking, kind of sci-fi. The temples reminded me of the Greek ruins: when you have a ton of old stuff around, it isn’t important much less possible to make it all look pretty. And often Mother Nature does some pretty-making of her own. I also really liked Bayon which has 216 faces smirking from every angle. It made me laugh.

The other highlight of Siem Reap (other than the food—who knew the food would be so good?) was a visit to Tonle Sap. This lake is huge. When I was there, just at the end of the wet season, I was in a boat, toodling around among the tops of the trees. During the wet season, water from the Mekong fills up the lake and swamps the forest; during the dry season, the lake drains a lot of water off down the river and the folks, who all live in floating villages, have to move their homes out into the middle of the lake. There are schools and stores and basketball courts and “dry docks” all floating out on Tonle Sap and twice a year, they have to call on the tow boats to move them. I have got to go back in the dry season to drive among the trees I have only seen from above.

Having survived twenty hours in the air and a total of over 30 in a vertical position en route home, and a week of jet lag, I am settling back into life in North Carolina. It snowed last night which was really different from the high heat of Southeast Asia. I have been looking at pictures and reading about Buddhism and eating ema datse, Bhutan’s national dish of peppers and cheese (two of my favorite foods). I tenderly filed my passport and promised her she’d have further adventures sooner rather than later. Shoot. I really love to travel despite the global warming, politically incorrectness of it. One thing I always know, like they say in Asia, it’s going to be “same same only different.”

How many Bhutanese does it take to get 15 chillips up and over an 11,000+ foot pass?

First of all, know that chillip is what we hope is a nice way of saying tourist or traveler in Dzongkha. And the answer is…more than you think. Considering there were 15 of us, we were for the most part in two-person tents equipped with cots and thermarests, were served three meals a day at tables with chairs, not to mention served popcorn, cookies, and whiskey in the pouring rain, perhaps it was just enough.

For 13 days, I was among a fortunate group of people who got to visit Bhutan, The Land of the Thunder Dragon and travel a portion of the national highway to see its remarkable landscape, including doubly remarkable drop offs and that powerful stream that was pouring over one hairpin turn, visit its temples and towns, and meet some of the charming residents.

My trip started with a bang. I almost didn’t make it to the starting point because we were having a little known and much localized gas shortage. Driving on fumes, I pulled into a gas station with no gas, begging for guidance. A woman who worked at an adjoining fast food joint had just seen an open station. I just about kissed the attendant when I got there. Emergency abated, I got good BBQ in Charlotte (found on chowhounds.com, one of my favorite travel sites) and checked into a cheap friendly airport motel.

Checking my email, I found that my plans were changed: a couple days in Bangkok turned into one in Bangkok and one in Kathmandu. This brief detour was a nice bonding experience for the group (which included some from another group who we overlapped with a couple days) and for me, returning to a place I had been 13 years before (wow) was fun. The changes were obvious—a huge increase in the population of Kathmandu had changed the traffic and the ambience and it was wildly busier than when I was here before.

The following morning we were off to Paro, Bhutan. My recollection of the Kathmandu airport is a blur of bustle, buying Cokes, glimpses of the snow-capped mountains and then we were on the plane. Just a reminder: I am in the land of the Himalayas. These are really tall mountains. Climbing into the clouds, we had a thrilling view of the tops of some of the bigger ones, including Everest. It put smiles on everyone’s face. I myself had trouble wiping that smile off for most of the day. The approach into Bhutan was equally smile inducing, though the course into the airport appeared challenging. Initially, we were high above densely forested steep hillsides and soon we were lower and banking around and between those hillsides. Then live and in person, I could see the typical buildings which until this moment I had seen only in photos. It was magical. The forest was a deep green, the buildings white with rust red-brown decorations— a charming contrast of colors.

And so the trip unfolded. We started out in a grand hotel with prayer flags flying, a group of 15 from all over the US, plus a leader, a guide, driver, and luggage wrangler. We were well taken care of.

We started slowly, acclimating to the altitude with some hikes, some drives and lots of dzongs (the grand temples). There’s only one road running east to west and it takes several days to cross the country. I can’t tell you the number of times I thought, This is the national highway??? It is curvy and narrow with serious drop offs (that seemed to concern only me), and a few erosion issues (that seemed to concern only me).

Just about every turn inspired oos and ahs and a few gasps from yours truly (see above). As my mother’s daughter, I felt it was my responsibility to keep the bus on the road and will the road to stay in one piece despite Mother Nature’s work to undermine that. Tenzin, the driver, ably assisted. Seriously, though, it was gorgeous countryside, a marvel to behold.

Mid-trip, we took to our feet up a muddy creek bed to a lovely meadow where our tent city appeared, and we enjoyed two nights on the edge of a village in the middle of nowhere. Later, I spoke to a businessman in the capitol who said he grew up in a town a nine hour walk from the bridge we had crossed earlier. An orthopedic surgeon at the same event had a similar story. So the middle of nowhere is all relative. Through these western eyes, the fact that someone walks nine hours out of these mountains and winds up studying in Delhi or Austin or London is mind boggling, but it happens here all the time.

After a riveting archery tournament (the national sport) and an evening of dancing and singing with our neighbors, we took off straight up a different muddy creek bed and hit the pass at noon. (Our leader Tshering told us in the beginning that he would handle all the details but the weather was our responsibility. The “pass day” was my day. I guaranteed no rain to the pass and it worked out that way but shortly thereafter it was bucketing down rain.) We huddled together in a “drive through” chorten (little temple-ish building) and ate our lunch, and a couple hours later, soaked by rain and a river crossing, we were in the dining tent sipping Special Courier whiskey and eating cookies and popcorn. A mediocre day of weather, it was a wild evening. Me? I climbed into my sleeping bag to avoid the chills, feeling satisfied that I got over the pass and remembering why I don’t typically drink whiskey.

After our trek, we made our way back across the country, attending two festivals. One included the unfurling of what was a three or four story high hand appliquéd tapestry which is only displayed once a year in the early morning hours before the sun hits it. It was stunning and the event around this was quite the early morning scene.

The second festival was in the capitol of Thimphu. The festivals are cause for everything to shut down, including governmental offices and schools. The Thimphu tsechu included dances and skits in a brand new outdoor facility. It was quite a production, lasting several days, and from what we saw, it was very well attended.

There are so many highlights I haven’t touched on. The consecration of a monastery that had been rebuilt after a fire which lasted more than a week has left lasting memories I have a hard time putting into words. Karaoke night in Thimphu was perhaps better left un-described, but I laughed a lot...the bathroom at that bar really shouldn’t be described either but I just wanted to remind Jeanie of it. Chiles drying on the roof, children laughing and smiling and waving along the road, hanging out with fourteen strangers who became friends instantly—it was a good trip.

And Bhutan is a remarkable country. I haven’t gone into all the reasons it is special—the self imposed isolation that has kept it from being overrun by outsiders and altered in the way that other Asian countries have been, the environmental sensibility that is protecting the black necked cranes, among others. It is a magical kingdom. I hope it can stay that way, and navigate the future that should prove to be challenging.

Proof that when you drop a half-cup of red pepper soup...

...it covers way more surface area than one could ever imagine. (And of course, the cup splintered into a ba-jillion pieces and of course, I was in a hurry, and you wouldn't believe how many rags it took to clean up.)

I am not sure this was what the internet was created for, but living alone, I felt I needed to share it with someone...

And now for something different: Join the Army of Women

I just joined. You can too.

From the tell-a-friend email:
"The Love/Avon Army of Women offers women the opportunity to partner with the scientists who are conducting research that will end this disease--once and for all.

"Breast cancer has been around for decades, but it does not have to be our future. We can be the generation that stops breast cancer once and for all by figuring out what causes this disease and how to prevent it!

"Sign up for your sister, mother, daughter, granddaughter, best friend, and the woman you met last week. This is YOUR chance to be part of the research that will end breast cancer.

It takes a just a minute to join. But the impact we will have will last a lifetime.

Please Join Me in Being One in a Million!"

From the delightful Pat West: "The Dr. Susan Love Research Foundation and the Avon Foundation, a global leader in breast cancer research, joined forces to launch the Love/Avon Army of Women.

Our revolutionary initiative has two key goals:

• To recruit one million healthy women of every age and ethnicity, including breast cancer survivors and women at high-risk for the disease, to partner with breast cancer researchers and directly participate in the research that will eradicate breast cancer once and for all.

• To challenge the scientific community to expand its current focus to include breast cancer prevention research conducted on healthy women.

Join us in this movement that will take us beyond a cure by creating new opportunities to study what causes breast cancer—and how to prevent it.
http://www.armyofwomen.org/armyfaq "

There's a video-interview with Dr Love at http://firedoglake.com/2008/10/25/pull-up-a-chair-120/

We all know someone who has had breast cancer. Let's change that. Check it out—watch the video. And sign up. Thanks...

Back from Asia and all is well

I spent most of the day staring at the computer and my photographs and trying to figure out how to show them to people and how many is too many -- even forgot to eat so you KNOW I was focused -- and now I can't look at them any more (but you can --I hope -- at http://pnewlpnews.spaces.live.com/photos/). I apologize because there are too many but, don't look at them if they bore you! And I want to come up with words before I forget anything and I haven't slept more than 6 hours in the last two days and there is so much mail...Anyway, one more picture and then I curl up in front of the TV under blankets because it is COLD here.

Happy Trails!

I couldn't resist one last so long farewell auf wiedersehen goodbye happy trails until we meet again, because, well that's the way I am...prolong the whatever. I also wanted to share with you the latest of nature's designs. It's autumn!

PNewL PNewS Volume 16 #3

PNewL PNewS

Volume 16 No. 3 “All the pnews that phits.” September 2008

The Aging Process, continued

Knowing something is really different from understanding it—it’s part of the reason I changed the heading of the next column from Things I Have Learned to Things I am Learning early on: the process takes more time than that. Case in point: it was the August 1993 issue of the PNewL PNewS—let me remind you that was fifteen years ago—that I thought I under-stood the “Mid-Life Extravaganza.” We decided at a dinner gathering lo those many years ago that we would call it the Extravaganza rather than Crisis and apparently I thought I got it then. What did I know?

[By the way, for those of you who have PNewS archives, you could go back to Volume 2 Number 4 to see the original text. The shameful fact is that I had to go back through hard copies of the PNewS to determine this. With the changes in technology it is close to impossible for me to read the electronic versions of the various generations of this project. Putting together my memoirs is going to be more work than I thought. But I digress.]

Fifteen years later, I am beginning to think I understand some of the aging process. The reason for the last 184 or so words is it came to my attention recently that people of a certain age were making changes. The most obvious examples are physical changes like capping teeth, dyeing hair, losing weight and elective surgeries.

I was telling Patsy about my observations and it suddenly (duh) occurred to me a lot of this is acknowledging our mortality! So I am a little slow on the uptake—now I get it. And Patsy confirmed it. She knows about mortality: she works for Hospice.

Since I moved, I have gotten interested in exercise. What a concept! Never too late to start, I guess. I let my hair grow a little longer (to hide the sagging skin I could eliminate with a slice of the knife?), oh and I moved. Not sure if that qualifies as part of the mid-life extravaganza. I think there were other issues at play there but we could lump it all in together I suppose. Perhaps those things could constitute my participation in the mid-life shift and I can avoid painful surgeries with recovery time keeping me from woods walking and Pilates.

I guess it all boils down to seeing the years tick by and wanting to make the most of it…not wanting to be doing things out of habit, but with intention. As Dad always said it’s later than you think, and maybe the changes, especially the physical ones, make us think we have more time. Some changes make it more likely we will have more time! Whatever it is, I am pleased to note that life is rarely boring.

Things I am Learning & Miscellaneous Observations

• One thing I will do next time I move is shampoo the carpets before I move in. It’s not that mine are dirty—au contraire—which is why I didn’t shampoo them, but they pick up smells and everyone’s house smells differently. For better or worse, they will soon smell like my house, but in the meantime, starting out fresh would be a good thing.
• When I was in New Orleans last spring, we spent some time on the Mississippi coast meeting with community activists who are trying to bring the area back to its pre-Katrina condition, or better. One of the things I was amazed to hear: state officials say everything already is back to normal and so they are diverting $600 million in federal funds for housing to restore and expand the Port of Gulfport, which according to those we met, was not damaged badly by the storm. Much of the wording of the previous sentence is from the AARP Bulletin (Sept 2008, page 6) which corroborates the information from my sources. Perhaps we should ask the 9,000 folks still in trailers if they feel everything is back to normal.
• Cleaning up old pnews. In case you were wondering, unpacking is indeed worse than packing. Several people agree with me.
• And regarding whether one should hang favorite pictures where they are seen from bed or where guests can see them, I think the consensus is to please ourselves first. Karen says our charm is more important when entertaining guests than what’s hanging on the walls. Leslie thinks it’s good to hang inspiring pictures where she can see them; kinda like affirmations …they can potentially change your life. And one of Laurie’s heroes is Ernie Banks. I never knew!
  
• Updating the moving angst: it’s fading slightly. I still wake up in the middle of the night or look at myself in the mirror and wonder what the heck I am doing but there’s a lot of good stuff going on. There are times when I turn the page on the calendar and see a lot of empty, but it fills up surprisingly fast.
  
• Since I last wrote I have had lots of company, including a lengthy visit by the extremely large hound. We had a nice time…actually I had a nice time with all the folks who came through. And I hope more of you will aim at the western North Carolina mountains as a vacation destination. It’s pretty and the food is really good and the art is amazing and the people are really nice even if some of ‘em talk kinda different.
  
• Meanwhile, I am taking a wonderful class called Analyzing your Mountain Homestead which will be sorely missed when it is over. The teacher is smart and funny and I am going to tell him that I would happily come in every Tuesday for a couple hours to hear him talk. Neighbors have been very welcoming and inclusive, inviting me to dinner and out on the town. I had two fabulous meals this week, one with a home smoked turkey that was scrumptious, and another out on the town in a sweet French bistro for all-you-can-eat mussels (See? Good food.). A good time was had by both sets of folk to be sure. Oh and Leslie, a fellow graduate of a certain college that no longer exists invited me along to an Asheville Tourists baseball game. She says Kevin Costner’s last assignment in Bull Durham was with the Tourists. It’s a hoot, small town ball. More distractions than mere baseball—I even saw Miss North Carolina complete with a tiara!
  
• Further proof that I am stabilizing a bit is that after a particularly odd haircut, I did not retreat to my bed. A friend said, Oh it’s just those awkward days right after a haircut, it will be fine, or something like that. I am not sure that it will be but this too shall pass and there you have it. So life is good and different and sometimes lonely, but heading towards better.
  
• If you aren’t quite sure where Bhutan is (see article below), I have posted a map on the blog. And if you can’t go there, picture China, picture India. Squished in between them is Nepal and to the right of that is Bhutan!
• Evie and I spent some time scanning family photos. Here’s the first group shot with Little Martha. Standing are Peter David Peggy Evie.

I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane!

I got me a plane ticket—not only that, it is an international ticket with many hours in the sky going long distances to foreign lands. I am ecstatic and a bit nervous.

By the time many of you read this, I will be on the other side of the dateline. I start with a few days in Bangkok, to recover from 22 hours of travel (it’s more than that but who knows how much more and frankly, who wants to think about it?), and to catch some good food. Then on to Bhutan, with a tour— haven’t done that without Dad. It’s something like 13 days (they say it’s more but they include flying days which I have to pay for so I ain’t giving them credit for that).

During the tour, there will be plenty of hiking—three days of it are trekking days though the horses carry our gear and I gather our tents with cots will be all set up when we get there! How’s that for roughing it! I have been doing some practice hiking but I fear not enough. Today I went up on the Parkway and scrambled up and down a nice steep trail, and I was thinking I was giving my gear a good workout but as I slumped into the car, I figured I was giving this body a wake up call too.

On the way home, I stop off in Cambodia for 7 or 8 or 9 days, hoping to see Angkor Wat and some birds and whatever it is I am supposed to see in Phnom Penh (I just got that guidebook and I have some time, like 22 hours on the plane to figure that out.) I know I am sounding a bit vague but I do have these things written down somewhere and I do know when and where and for how long. In Cambodia, I will be on my own but I have some good advisors and just heard that aforementioned Laurie’s friends who live there will be in town so that is a comfort.
Please think positive thoughts for safe travels and I will think of you all being bombarded by news of financial problems and a seemingly endless election process. Buena suerte, y’all.

"Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." Mark Twain

Travels with Peggy, cont'd

With out of town visitors now safely home, it is time to prepare for the next adventure. In less than a month, I am leaving for Bangkok, Bhutan and Cambodia. I will be on my own in Thailand and Cambodia (probably Phnom Penh and Siem Reap/Ankor Wat), and joining a tour in Bhutan. It's the only way one can go to Bhutan at this point, connected to a guide/driver combo or a tour. My tour includes a three-day trek and a week + of touring--festivals, culture, scenery etc. I am starting to get very excited. I have a lot to figure out and of course, there is the worrying part: the long flights, the midnight arrival in Thailand, the political unrest in Bangkok, travelling with a small group for many days, tight connections on return flights, remembering how to do this.

Oh wait--that's the fun part. Putting it all together! I forgot, but just for a moment. For those of you who are not certain where Bhutan is, you are not alone. Below is a map.

It's summer in the mountains

...and the gardens are producing...big time. In addition to the farm stand across the road, my neighbors, Chris and Sculley, are out of town and I am watering their tomatoes...and eating them. I thought this made such a pretty picture I had to take one and share it with you. (The basket was given to me by Rusty and Kathy Rudy when I was in Houston for the Quilt Festival there several years back and it was filled with snacks and I get to think of them every time I use it. It has spent time in the quilt room, as a yarn basket and now for toting vegies across the road. Wow. I sound kinda like Suzy Homemaker, don't I!?)

PNewL PNewS Volume 16 Issue 2

PNewL PNewS

Volume 16 No. 2 “All the pnews that phits.” July 2008

At least my hair looks good

I confess to being a bit of a drama queen. I am inexact in the words I choose and tend to exaggerate. Now that I have moved to a new place (I am not certain that it has really sunk in that I live here now, that this is not a brief visit), I want to choose my words more carefully so I don’t frighten people, so I don’t go off sounding like I am preparing to jump off the bridge. That is not the way to make friends and influence people.

Anyway, I tend towards the dramatic and so, six days into this new life I just wanna say, what the ^#**$?! was I thinking? How did I think I could handle this? Absolutely everything is new and out of my comfort zone and beyond my abilities. It makes me wanna barf…or hide under the covers or well…I am not to the jumping part but I can imagine getting there. OK, lotsa drama there.

Here’s the scenario (in case you missed this whole extravaganza I have created for myself). I was living a perfectly fine life in a beautiful resort community in Southwest Florida and other than the fact that the summer which lasts about five months drove me mad because of the obscenely hot weather and 18 other things I won’t go into here, I have made some of the best friends I had ever had and I had a pretty good set-up. That is, of course, the time I decided I should leave. And so that is how I got to where I am today.

I guess I would say I am at one of the many really yucky parts of moving. I KNOW it is a phase but here I am: I can’t remember why I thought this was a good idea or what I am supposed to do now. I can’t seem to do anything right. I am late places when I have no schedule. I arrive without coupons or the mail I wanted to mail or the address of where I am going, the phone isn’t charged and the grocery list is nowhere to be found. Everything is kind of a mess. When I step back and look at it, I realize it’s little messes, but it still drives me bats.

Recently, I bought a computer desk from a young woman moving to LA for graduate school who needed the money, and it came with two other pieces of organizational furniture and it is surprising how satisfying and productive a little thing like that can be. I have places to put things! Then I bought three little dining room chairs which match one I got from my parents. They make me happy, and, coincidentally, the woman I bought them from spends half her time in SW Florida and is a quilter (and she probably doesn’t need the money but probably wants the space). Finally, the true organizational queen of the house: I got a “hutch” for glasses and all that stuff so things are starting to look put away. And the best part is I bought it all used on Craig’s List (my new favorite time sucking device/black hole of time/hobby) so I am not adding (too much) to the consume consume consume problem in our country. Some days actually work out pretty well.

Others, however, don’t. More often than I prefer, it is before dawn and I am on the computer because I couldn’t sleep. I have things I would like to accomplish but I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be able to sleep when I would like to be busy and that could make for bad driving and/or inappropriate snoring and/or drooling. It's frustrating.

Perhaps by the time I get to writing the next edition of the PNewS, I will be over this rambling lost in a fog of no sleep and uncertainty-about-everything phase and I will sound like my usual whiney self. Meanwhile, at least my hair looks good. (Or it did when I first started writing this but as we all know and hope, hair grows and does different things as the weather changes, but I am feeling better able to handle it, which seems like a step in the right direction.)

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Here’s my latest brilliant idea: I am going to write a How-to book about moving to the country by someone who has basically lived in the suburbs her whole life. I can include the part where I didn’t have hot water for a week thinking I was doing something wrong only to find the pilot light was out. (After brushing the four foot long snake skin away from in front of the hot water heater, I lit it all by myself.) And then there’s the part where I assumed I had to turn on the gas to the house which seemed too scary so I made coffee on the front steps on my camp stove until the neighbor came over and lit the stove on his first attempt. See? It’ll be informative, expose me as a moron and make everyone else feel like they are way ahead of my curve!

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I cut out the comic strip Lola from the paper last week. She was at an anger management class and she said, “I have issues…None of which existed prior to Bill Gates…” I thought there must be someone I could send it to. After spending several hours wrestling with MS Word, I think I will keep it for myself. Be well.

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Things I am Learning
And Other Miscellaneous Observations

• When moving/packing, I vow to put all pieces of a thing (knobs, plugs, cords, shelf brackets, etc) in the same box so I won’t think I have lost them. It’s a hassle and a drag to worry about lost bits in the tangle of packing paper only to find them a couple boxes later. (Still missing the top to a little china teapot.)
• I love the internet. For the past several days, the little Oregon Scientific clock/alarm/indoor-outdoor thermometer has been ringing bright and early. I went online and found the manual!! Yahoo. I can’t find anything specific on the internet that does something about the dogs that bark all night a couple houses down but hopefully this too shall pass.
• I am very pleased with the new quilt group I went to (with celebrity quilter Patsy Thompson, a close personal friend, ahem). Despite a lengthy discussion of nametags and font sizes which boggled the mind, I was blown away by the caliber of talent in the room. I suspect at some point I will be exposed for the fraud that I am and they will ask me to leave (with a couple others I detected were a bit out-classed) but in the meantime, I will sit in awe.
• Getting accustomed to a new house is an interesting process. There are new noises…the hot water heater seems to go on rather loudly around midnight (does it have a watch? Should I be worried?) Late one night, a moth got stuck in a little spot around a window frame and sounded like an electrical rattling thing. (I got up to check it out and Ok I squished it but it had been on its way out—one can only take so much.) The creek out back ebbs and flows and gurgles based on rainfall. Then there’s always those things that go bump in the night.
• The latest thing I am grappling with as I settle in: Do you put your favorite art/photos where you can see them when you wake up or out there where everyone who comes to visit can see them? Do tell. Inquiring minds want to hang pictures.
• I have a had a bit of a problem getting hooked up to television (be glad I didn’t tell you the whole story of wrangling with the internet—oh my!) here in the woods. So I have now watched every videotape and DVD I own. Then I moved on to the supply at the local library. Buncombe County where I now live has an extensive library system (“You are never more than five miles from a library in Buncombe County!” they proudly declare, though I think that must be as the crow flies.) Anyway, the local video section doesn’t even fill two shelves so I am finding myself limited. The night before last, I watched State Fair (1945) and lo and behold this 60th Anniversary Edition includes the updated 1962 version starring Pat Boone, Bobby Darin and a 21 year old Ann-Margret. Oh my! Why they haven’t made a version since I don’t know—the music’s real snappy, but for now I think I have had quite enough State Fair.
• Going through Mom and Dad’s stuff back on Sanibel (including things like old bills and menus for dinner parties among other more precious items), I went back and forth from wanting to throw everything away to wanting to ask them questions about what where who when why. I came across a receipt from a time when Dad had to “Surrender to the Crown” some pepper spray. And I thought he was such a law abiding citizen!!

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“Justice is what love looks like in public.” Cornel West

Moving: Closing in on the final chapter I hope

I am in the house: me, my vehicles and all sorts of stuff. I have "only" 38 boxes to go, but that includes several that will be finished up once I get additional organizational bits of furniture. It's funny how furniture in one house doesn't necessarily work in another. Colors are different and styles of course, and then there's size and scale...but there are other things. Aw heck. Maybe there aren't.

Anyway, the unpacking continues and here's the big question: is it possible that unpacking is worse than packing? Ring in. And I will get back to my boxes...

27th Annual Angel Island Picnic & 6th Annual Dirty Towel Tour

Once again, I managed to connect with many wonderful old friends in a variety of beautiful places. The Bay Area (I went from Carmel Valley to Santa Rosa) is a remarkable and wonderful place. The food is good, the views are stunning. Too bad so many people agree with me.

This year two of the many were hurting and that is hard to see. I hope that soon this won't be the case but I guess pain, illness, death are part of the package, and there ain't nothin I can do about it. My thoughts remain with you all, and I hope for rain without lightning to deal with some of that fire.

The Angel Island Picnic was a rousing success with the addition of more in the 20-something category. (Katie Scherbel brought along a whole slew of folks who seemed to enjoy themselves enough to agree to bring the keg next year!) Unfortunately a number of the regulars couldn't make it because of things like family reunions and children's activities. Enough excuses: next year's picnic will be on June 27 (wow that's late--remember: it's the Saturday after Father's Day), so put it on your calendar and show up.

We talked to a very nice candid ranger there about fixing the road to Perles Beach which has been washed out for several years, causing aging picnickers to have to vault down a steep hillside. We thought if we offered to find someone to fix the road and pay for it, we could get it fixed. Unfortunately FEMA is already on the case and the ranger said "So just like New Orleans, it's almost fixed..." or something like that. Sigh. Well, it's gonna get hard to get the truly aged down that hillside, but maybe when we are that far along, we will have other technology to aid us down. Until then...see you next year.

The Last Lunch

A wonderful lunch took place on my last real day in Florida. (I spent some time there after, but it was well...a bit unreal...) It was totally fun to be surrounded by people I really like. I hope you can see the gift from Darla who had...well I can't tell you the whole story, but trust me, the gift is priceless (and it only cost $1 at Noah's Ark Thrift Store) and the reason behind it is even better...

too bad I look so tired...

I survived moving!...well most of it.

I guess I have been talking about moving for so long that people assumed it was a done deal. It ain't so. I just can't do things fast I guess. Or I think I can't so I prolong them and then it drives me bats.

I packed for much of the month of May. My plan was to hire movers and do this like a grown-up and move at the end of June. A family friend in the business said that the end of June is the busiest time so rates are high and service isn't at its best, so I did what I always do--I did it myself. Well, I did hire two guys on this end to help load and one guy on the other to unload and that was a good thing. It actually all worked out remarkably well and I am relieved to be mostly moved before I go to California for a conference, lots of visits with friends and the 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic.

The guys I hired on this end were supposed to show up at 11 and when I called to confirm that on the morning of, the fellow said, "You were booked to move today? I thought you were just checking to see if I was available." Sigh. Well, he said he'd see what he could do and called back to say he'd be there mid-day then called mid-day to say he'd be here at 3:30 and then when he called at 3:30, he said it would be more like 5, all of this with plenty of excuses and suggestions that he was having a worse day than I was. He and his pal showed up at 5:17 and were done before 5:55 ('course, meanwhile, I had moved all the boxes to the garage so I wound up doing more than i had expected but it all worked out in the long run and as Gini pointed out, in the big picture, it will be a very minor blip).

I drove the 16' moving van up Highway 75, through Macon and Athens to 85 to Greenville SC (driving through parts of Greenville on a Friday evening is not recommended, in my humble opinion) and on up to North Carolina. It took about 15 hours and other than the frightening price of gas, it was painless. OK, I almost squished myself into a concrete barrier but other than that, it was pretty painless.

The following day I unloaded some stuff, ran some errands, and felt more tired than I have felt since our week of work in New Orleans. The day after that, a very handsome young man came by to unload the heavy stuff. He was great. And now, the bulk of my belongings are happily contained at a new location. Amazing.

The learning curve at this new home with a well, a propane tank, a septic system and oh there must be other stuff, is a bit steep right now. I have gas in the tank, but it isn't coming into the house. There must be a lever I need to pull but who knows where—and making coffee on the camp stove was kinda fun. I have been battling it out with an array of service providers to get phone, TV and internet and haven't successfully completed that task. I was supposed to have a phone last Monday but they lost the order. Don't ask. It's really bizarre. OK, you don't need to ask...here's the story:

I waited for the phone person to come hook up my phone—there had been some confusion as to whether s/he would show up between 8-12 or 1-4, so I hung out in the morning, zipped into town to do some errands, zipped back and hoped I didn't miss the event. Prior to hooking it up, I had a dial tone but got a fast busy when I dialed anything. On the day of, it went from busy to saying that all the numbers I dialed were out of order. I felt like I was getting somewhere...

By the end of the day (and the end of my time in NC), I had made no progress. I called the customer service number from the Atlanta airport. The VERY nice helpful woman said they had no record of my order--not under my name, the address, the order #, and the number I had been assigned had a different name on it...so I got angry, I cried, and Michelle (the VERY nice helpful woman) was close to tears herself--she said there had been some weird computer issues all day...so I said what do we do? And she said we start over. Name address date of birth SS# and I said NOPE I don't give that out over a public phone at an airport and by the way, I faxed a credit thing along with driver's license to the "welcome center." She said, AHA! So she called them and THEY HAD THE ORDER which did me no good as far as getting a phone but they approved me....again.

So in the meantime, she says, look at that! The number you were assigned is still available (huh?) (though they don't guarantee it til it's installed) and I said as long as we are having this conversation, I was told that they couldn't give me internet even though my neighbor has it. She said, oh yes you can so she signed me up for that and then I said, now what about TV? And she said, are you sure? Don't you wanna see how all this goes? Ha. So perhaps on June 26th at midnight I will have a phone--and maybe I won't. I am trying to think optimistically...but it can be harder than it looks sometimes.

More About some amazing events I witnessed in New Orleans

this is a link to a piece written by someone who was at Superlove/V-Day to the 10th. It's very moving
http://www.ourchart.com/user/144034/blog

This is a link to photos of the event
http://v10.vday.org/anniversary-events/photos/paula-allen

And finally, this is a link to a good article on the event
http://www.womensmediacenter.com/ex/043008.html

Just had to show some pretty pictures of spring

in North Carolina

PNewl PNews Volume 16 Issue 1

PNewL PNewS

Volume 16 No. 1 “All the pnews that phits.” April 2008

Things I am Learning And Other Miscellaneous Observations
It’s all about learning these days. Later.

And so begins Year 16 of the PNewL PNewS. Thanks for reading.

Reminder: 27th Annual Angel Island Picnic Saturday June 21 2008
Perles Beach. Be there or be square

Bye Bye Ann
My cousin Ann died this past month. She was a good friend for a good long time. We called each other west coast sisters. We ate great food, Worked on some projects together. Took walks at Point Reyes. She and her partner Victor joined brother Peter and I in Thailand and Bali and “Langwacky” (aka Langkawi Malaysia). She introduced me to NPR. She was an incredibly
gifted artist and teacher. And there are many who miss her. I am one of them.

Amazing…
“Looks like you forgot your kleenex tonight,” said Amelie as she dug around in her bag for some. The night before, at the premiere of Swimming Upstream: The Katrina Monologues, I had suggested people bring along their tissues as it could be, like lots of things in New Orleans and on the Gulf Coast in general, emotional. This night was the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, celebrated with a star studded very New Orleanian version of the Vagina Monologues. I wasn’t expecting the emotions here but out they poured. Sigh.

I have recently returned from five days in New Orleans, a visit that was so cram-packed full of different events and experiences and plenty of emotions, it’s hard to know where to start and how to tell the story. I told Sue and every other word was amazing. She said it was ok because it seemed that it truly was an amazing series of events.

The first two and a half days were taken up with site visits in New Orleans and on the Mississippi coast, meeting amazing activists and organizers and seeing the impact of the work they are doing. I want to adopt them all, I want to be them when I grow up, I want the world to be overwhelmed with pride for these folks who are doing such good hard work because the government isn’t. I want them to fulfill their mission, to be our future leadership, to solve the problems that New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are examples of. So many people said that NOLA provides a microcosm of the problems facing the country and the world. These are the people who are going to walk us through to the solution. Listen and learn. Love them. They are us, when we are the best we can be. (I don’t know what some of this means but I am on a roll.)
After this, I said to someone, I am full. I can’t hear anything more, can’t absorb anything else and I found I didn’t know myself very well. I went directly into two workshops on socially responsible investing, lead by a whole pile of—yes—amazing women. While I probably could have absorbed more under different circumstances, I learned a lot and was once again inspired by thoughtful smart amazing people doing good work.

With a brief break, we moved on to the premiere of Swimming Upstream, dramatic readings of a series of monologues by New Orleans’ women describing their Katrina-affected lives. It premiered in the Superdome—this weekend dubbed the Superlove—and all those images we all have in our heads of the hideous moments post Katrina…the people stuck in that building with little support…the overwhelming images…it was powerful being in that building, but hearing the women read the words was more powerful. In the way that is New Orleans, music was at the core and as we sniffled from monologue to monologue we were cradled in the melodies. I can’t imagine hearing “This little light of mine” ever again without getting choked up, it was all so moving. When it comes to a town near you, see it. These are stories, like so many, that need to be remembered.

Meanwhile, I managed to catch snippets of the French Quarter Fest—great music in all nooks and crannies as well as great food— and the events at the Superlove—part of the celebration of the 10th Anniversary of V-Day, working to eradicate violence against women. Non-stop early in the morning to end of the work day, speakers from around the world, local performers and celebrity leaders appeared on that stage.

The final evening we went to the closing event, a star studded, only in New Orleans version of the Vagina Monologues with people like Jane Fonda, Jennifers Hudson and Beals, Doris Roberts (from among other places, Everybody Loves Raymond), Charmaine Neville, Faith Hill. Plus 1200 women who hadn’t been back since the storm. At the end, Eve Ensler, the producer of the event, asked everyone in the audience of about 15,000 people who had been abused to stand up—my guess would be a third stood up. Then she asked everyone who knew someone who had been abused to stand and the whole room was on their feet. Together we sang R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Yeah, I had my kleenex then too.

Disengaging
It’s a brief time before the process will hit its full stride—when moving will become a full-time job. The disengaging process has begun. Regrets about not getting to those things I can always do because I never felt pressed before loom large. Events I could always go to next year but now probably won’t. Skipping some meetings because…well, I have been to enough of them…and why bother? New will be good but missing the old, the familiar, will be hard.
I knew something was going on when I drove through the Wildlife Refuge in early April looking for the white pelicans—one of dad’s and my favorite—thinking I’d missed them: they usually leave around this time. Tears were streaming down my face. I said aloud, so you thought this would be easy? Ha. But a flock–they are so big the word “herd” comes to mind—of the pillowy white birds were perched on the mudflat in the pond by the Lookout. I was so pleased, I miss them already.

It’s impossible to imagine leaving now. The weather is perfect. Warm in the sun, a little bit less so in the shade. Sun glistening on the bigger than ripples/not quite waves in the canal. The neighbors are leaving—the frantic energy and activity of season is dissipating.
The breeze feels like fine silk as it touches my skin.

I remember when I first started walking with Kathleen—it was this kind of weather and she said, “When we’re walking in July, we will think of these perfect days and remember why we live through the hot part.” Each year, I have thought of that and been so grateful for knowing these moments of perfection.

Once again, I am writing this as Bear and I sit in the shade of the palm tree in the cul de sac. He is chewing on a stick—an expensive one this time: a Bully stick and if you don’t know what that is, well, I will forgo the description. It’s almost cloudless though there are clouds beginning to build in the east. Maybe we will get a thunderstorm in the afternoon with much needed rain. A boat just went by and I feel as I sometimes do—you may have the boat, but I get to be here every day…for now.

And too soon as always, it is time to go. Bear’s done with his bully stick and he’s wrestling a palm frond into submission. He apparently thinks it’s time I got involved.

I had to go to North Carolina to mow my lawn

After I picked up a frightening rental car (I just replaced the tires on the Prius after Ken the mechanic berated me mercilessly for going way beyond their limits so I am a bit sensitive to bald tires and tags on the windshield that say this car should have been serviced 4000 miles ago), I drove into Weaverville. I wondered what the heck I was doing here. After picking up provisions, I knew. EVERYTHING in the bleeping county is blooming—and as one who has missed seven or eight years of spring, seeing that green and the remarkable flowers is worth the time money and effort. I can deal with the emotional upheaval later—or after dark.
I had no idea the two smaller trees in the front yard are actually gigantic dogwoods. The short leafless shrubs are now vivid azaleas. The blank spaces along the path are –oh Chris told me what they are…little white flowering perennials? The dirt wall at the end of the driveway is sprinkled with really teeny iris and purple and pink things (if they are weeds, don’t mention it as they are lovely), and the sweetest little violets. It’s a big glorious party in the garden. Who knew?

Not all of this has been glorious. I am still dealing with the what the heck am I doing here part. Buyer’s remorse? Who knows. I love the new but hate the details—the sad, the missing, the uncertainty, the fear. I spent a couple days facing that. I think the lack of TV unmasks a lot of it. If only I could drown out my monologue with a little All My Children or Grey’s Anatomy. But when I finally wandered out into the world, it got better and I remembered that this is mostly good (except for the sad, missing part).
I believe this is gonna work. I got to have dinner with Betty and Tom who just happened to be in town. I went to a book signing with like 14 you know like 20-somethings (what generation are we on…z-gen?). I missed Hillary’s swing through Western North Carolina but she sold out which is a hopeful sign. (Which is not to say I am Hillary fan—I just like that there are people here who would show up for it). I have seen men my age without wedding bands. I went to the preview of the local open studio tour and won an hour massage at the local Zen inn. I hung out with some of my neighbors who I like more each time I see them. I met a woman who moved from California to Florida to North Carolina and wants to commiserate, wants new friends and is a Pilates instructor (all good).

I stripped the quaint wallpaper trim that has made me feel this home wasn’t mine and found environmentally correct paint I can consider for the kitchen. I have moved some glass globes around so that I can live with the yellow-gold metal fixtures until I get someone to replace them (I fear electricity). I went to a couple stops on the open studio tour and brought home a large flying ceramic pig whistle that is holding court in an otherwise bland bathroom. I walked with Jane-the-human and Sadie-the-dog on the Blue Ridge Parkway and along the Swannanoa River (near where brother David went to Outward Bound). I am a lucky girl. Life is good.
Ah, it’s time for Desperate Housewives…somewhere other than here. I will go read the recently autographed book instead. Sleep well.

PS I did not mow the lawn, but someone else is or has or...well, we shall see.

I love my stuff...sometimes

Much has been going on and I can't seem to keep on top of blogging as well apparently. We had a big fund-raiser here and a couple days later Gini and Bear and I caravaned to North Carolina, in two loaded down vehicles.

There is a saying I’ve mentioned before that there’s no such thing as bad weather, it’s bad clothing choices, or something like that. For those of you who have unlimited experience in the frozen tundra of the northern tier of states, you know better than I the truth of this statement. I am the first to admit I am a weather wimp. I have not driven in snow since high school. Oh there has been the occasional Christmas at my parent’s house but never far and never long and always really really slow. Now I am willingly moving to a place that gets cold and I am wondering what I am thinking. I am not worried about being cold—I would much prefer to be cold than hot which is ironic since I willingly moved to what I hope is the hottest place on the planet (if anyone lives somewhere hotter they should consider moving because I just don’t think we are meant to live like that)—it’s just that I am a bit out of practice when it comes to dressing for cold weather climes.

I am worried about the learning curve. I just came in from walking the large hound. He has taken this short-term climate change in stride. He has more energy than ever. There are great new smells and animals—with neighbors in the shape of llamas, horses and angora goats, some are even bigger than he is—and terrain to cover and shrubs to pee on. He’s in heaven. On the other hand, I had to come back in three times to upgrade my outfit, adding first a scarf then a hat and mittens, and finally hot coffee. Bear, in the meantime, is sitting his delicate fanny directly on the frozen ground. I have to say the first time he did that he got up immediately and turned around to look at what he had been sitting on as if to say, what the heck? Shortly thereafter, after several runs pursuing the many sticks in the yard, he lay prone (Merriam Webster: having the front or ventral surface downward) on the frozen ground, looking up as he does, adoringly and he was happily cool.

We also got to play minor roles in Patsy Thompson's latest DVD (http://patsythompsondesigns.com/). And then, leaving my aging truck in NC, we drove back down together. Immediately following was the annual arts & crafts sale with Susi and Barb et al, and phew, now all there is to do is deal with the bajillion tourists. Oh wait--next week is a fund-raiser for Greg Mortenson who wrote Three Cups of Tea (he builds schools in Asia--FABULOUS book, wonderful org, send him money now at http://www.ikat.org/).

In the meantime, I have done some packing and some sending of things to others and some donating to worthy orgs like SWFAS and the Library, my two favorite local causes...and sometimes I wonder why I keep things and sometimes I can't imagine ever parting with every broken pencil and twist tie. What is the deal? I have to think on the meaning of this more and will get back to you if I come to any understanding...

So I just wanted to say I hope you all are staying well and that the return of the daylight (after that absurd ridiculous dangerous-to-children-boarding-early-buses, why-can't-they-wait-til-April time change--don't get me started, I am realllllly upset about it), is brightening your view of the world.

More pics below. More words in the near future I hope. (Got my taxes organized so there is hope for more interesting things in the future...)

Here are Bear and I after unloading the vehicles. We are very tired.












And another results-of-moving photo...

until we meet again...peggy

PNewL PNewS Volume 15 Issue 4

Once again, I have battled with MS Word--what were those developers thinking? Oh my. Just when you think things are settled, they hop all over the place. Alas. Here's the blog version. Here's the way to the PDF version...

PNewL PNewS
Volume 15 No 4 “All the pnews that phits.” February 2008

To?...or…From?
Cousin John sent an email asking whether my upcoming move (Summer 2008) was away from here or to there. Interesting question. It's a little of both...
Let me give you a brief description of the events that transpired, in somewhat chrono-logical order, to get me to where I am today.
☛ I was born…ok, ok—I’ll skip ahead.
☛Last spring, I got some nice things from my parents’ home.
☛ In May, I went to a quilt symposium in Mars Hill NC and stayed in Weaverville with Patsy and Ernie.
☛ In June, I got stuck overnight in the Chicago airport and I noticed that there were people of all ages in the world.
☛ I returned home to find it hot and the hot continued and then more hot. (It was hot in December. By then, people were pleased–it's cold and dark everywhere else. And it's hot here! Cool! Not to me. I am sick of it.)
☛ I returned to my expensive home on a barrier island containing nice things from my parents’ home, two feet (sometimes less) above sea level, in hurricane country (and with the specter of global warming loom-ing). How's that for tempting fate!
☛ So I went back to NC and I drove and I drove and I drove. I went into every nook and cranny I could find. I was drawn to some parts and not to others. And I went back a couple more times and then I drove down a driveway and I thought, this looks like home. And hopefully it is.
Gini tells me I should tell people it's time…to go…for a change…finish this sentence as you will. I have a list of 17 reasons why I’m moving and I could list them here but I find people then like to argue about why they aren’t legitimate reasons. And some of them are big and are included in the above timeline and some are small (e.g., my silver jewelry tarnishes within moments of putting it on).
So I guess that’s it—it’s time to enter the next phase. I figure at the rate I am going, I have three good moves left in me, this being the first. Sara and Bob are talking about the golden years in the northwest so I may meet up with them then/there. There are a few options for the second one.
I could stay happily where I am for a bit longer—and frankly this all happened a lot faster than I expected—but if I will move on soon, why not now? Don’t get me wrong. I love Sanibel. It is gorgeous and much of the year, quiet and comfortable. I have made several great friends—many I consider world-class. It will be hard to go…and exciting!
Meanwhile, I am writing this from my makeshift dining table in the mostly empty place I will soon call home. Schools are closed because of freezing rain (or some are opening at 10— that seems like a logistical nightmare for parents but I spose that isn’t my problem). ) My new neighbor Chris says you just stay home when weather is like this. Ok, I can do that. Yesterday it was cold but sunny and I met up with Chris and five other neighbors for lunch at the Camaraderie Café. It felt like the right name and place for the occasion. Here were my soon-to-be people and they looked pretty friendly. Plus the food was delicious.
I don’t know if I answered your question, John. I guess I am moving from and to at the same time. And Gini says I have to come to Sanibel for at least a month each year to stay her friend. That is a win-win in my book, which is ok by me.

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Life Goes On…though sometimes it doesn’t

2008 started out a little rough though it’s since calmed considerably. Three deaths, several illnesses of frightening strength for friends who are too young to be facing such things (or are we that old?). In light of these monumental events, I thought it would be an interesting exercise to write my obituary. Here is a first draft.

Margaret Hale Newell, known for better or worse as Peggy, died. She was born on April 30th 1957 in Cleveland Ohio. She died at a comfortably advanced age of a brief pain-free illness.
Highlights of her life included being the daughter of Sterling and Frannie Newell, and sister to Evie, Peter, David, and Martha, and human to Rocket, Dusty, Sally, Beandip and Bear. She marveled at her great fortune in making friends in high school and college who remained close throughout her life. She was passionate about quilting, travel, and philanthropy, in no particular order. She believed in the importance of humor, friendship and napping.
While she experienced only moderate success in her work, it only bothered her occasionally because she always seemed to find more fun things to focus on. She did feel successful in other ways—in unpaid positions with a variety of organizations, in her friends and in the legacy she left behind.
Her greatest regret was that she didn’t take up tap dancing earlier.

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Things I am Learning
& Other Miscellaneous Observations

• On New Year’s Day, I found myself catching up on my reading on…garbage. I learned the average American purchases 200 plastic bottles each annually, 80% (3.2 billion lbs. ) of which end up in landfills. Check out the Co-op America archives at http://www.coop america.org/pubs/caq/articles/ for the Fall’07 issue. The most impor-tant thing I learned was that some towns recycle all plastics (#1-7) even though only #1 and #2 are the only ones really re-used by anyone (and they are recycled into things that cannot be recycled so it’s kind of a dead end though the “things” are fleece jackets, railroad ties and other…stuff). And the towns do this theoretically because they think more people will recycle if they don’t have to look for the number on the container. Speaking of STUFF, please watch this video—it’s so good. And it will make you think! http://www.storyofstuff.com/index.html
• I started volunteering at the local library this past summer and it quickly became my favorite part of the week. I have tried to analyze the parts I like the best—at first it was wandering the aisles, re-shelving books and coming upon authors I have never read. I never left with less than a combination of 12 books, magazines, books on tape, DVDs and “playaways.” Soon, I gained an appreciation for all the intricacies of the behind-the-scenes organization that allows the “front of the store”—the part y’all hang out in—to run so smoothly. It’s complex! Now, with season in full swing, it’s running as fast as you can (metaphorically) to keep up with the volume of people and books etc coming and going. It feels like an essential service we volunteers are providing. I’ve looked into Library Science programs—there are several “distance learning” possibilities—and am considering going back to school. I have visited four of the libraries in Western North Carolina. Being afraid of exams, I will probably remain a volunteer but I just might surprise myself.
• According to USA Today, 48% of people online regularly check 2 or 3 different email addresses. 42% have only one (and 5% have 4-5, and another 5% have 6 or more!).
• My brother Peter gets Merriam-Webster words of the day via email. The word for November 30 2007 was “snowbird—1 : any of several birds (as a junco or fieldfare) seen chiefly in winter. 2 : one who travels to warm climes for the winter.” I am quite familiar with the latter. They are here now. But I didn’t know it was “first used [in the early 1900s] to describe men who enlisted in the armed forces to get food and clothing during the winter months and then deserted as the warm spring weather approached. Not long after, the term was applied to the northern laborers who would flock down south to work as the cold, harsh winter set in up north.” Who knew?
• I clipped an article by Andrew Weill which listed Ten tips for a Great Old Age, and the final was to “Keep an ongoing list of the lessons you have learned, the wisdom you gain and the values you hold…read this over, add to it, revise it, and share it with people you care about it.” I am just finishing my fifteenth year of doing that with you. I guess I am ahead of the curve…for once!

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If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world
and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” EB White

Must See

Once again time has gotten away from me. I have some posts that are partly finished but I can't seem to get motivated. Too much weird life stuff going on. But I didn't want to forget to tell anyone who reads this about this wonderful video. I saw Annie Leonard do this live with a huge length of paper and a magic marker. She was amazing. Now it's on film and this is her website (http://www.storyofstuff.com) but it's not there right now--I did find it on youtube in chapters. Plllllleeeeeeaaaaaassssseeeee check it out--http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqZMTY4V7Ts