Cannon Mountain

Last year, I set out to hike Mt. Washington with the dogs and the man. Mission accomplished by July 3rd, so we figured we'd keep going and hike the other mountains in the state that exceed 4,000 ft. (48 in all). We managed to summit four last year: Washington, Pierce, Eisenhower, Jefferson.

I decided to continue that quest this year, but this time I would be without my male counterpart. My first hike of the season was, of course, bittersweet, but I have more than a decade of solo hiking under my belt that allowed me to enjoy the journey (plus two adorable four-legged girls that kept me company).

A gorgeously sunny day on Cannon Mountain, 4,100 ft., in photos:

Let there be light

It is appropriate that the New England spring arrival would bring with it other upheavals, changes, room for growth. Call it New Beginnings, represented by the koru fern of New Zealand.

I say, let there be light.

After the rains, room for more lightheartedness. A focus back on me, what makes me happy. I didn't realize how much I was missing physical and emotional light.

A painful move to a new apartment, now surrounded by more than a dozen windows almost floor to ceiling high, letting in precious sun. I feel like I finally stopped holding my breath.

There will be many lonely moments, to be sure. Many more tears to shed, but with that necessary space to grow and be and live and laugh. Time to enjoy the light, the lightness.

Easter travels

Ah, spring is finally here. My soul rejoices! Last week, I headed south for a much-needed visit with friends and family.

Easter at the farm--egg painting, hunting, time spent with relatives and of course my mom looking so beautiful. The magnolia tree was in full bloom, my favorite spot in the world:

Clearly I am no egg artist, but I had fun because it involved getting messy!

And if I can remember this container of food dye from when I was a very young child (like, my earliest memories of egg painting, I was probably 3 or 4), then I *think* it's time to throw it out.

So much fun seeing the next generation hunt for eggs!

Headed south to visit my good friend Steph near Annapolis. Spent the day touring the downtown, popping in a spice shop to smell black truffle salt, drink iced coffee by the water, and generally enjoy the sunshine and warm weather.

Not pictured: some great conversation and food shared throughout the day. Nothing fills the soul like a good friend's company.

Popped over to D.C. to visit my great aunt Arlene. Together, we headed to Arlington cemetery to see Tony. It's a strange feeling to know someone who is buried here, but it's such a beautiful space, very humbling:

Grilled dinner and dessert (meringue, yum!) at Arlene's home on her pretty back patio. I am so blessed to have my Grandma's younger sister in my life. Her wisdom, humor and strength are inspiring:

I am so blessed!

Just when I was about to give up on myself

You know that feeling: you've had it up to here, you're frustrated, tired, you've psyched yourself out of a new challenge, you've decided you just can't do it. We've all been there (some of us more than we care to admit). It's enough to put a good-sized dent in your ego, large enough to let the doubts creep in. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this!" Time to give up, pack it in, and then that glum feeling of not being good enough to tackle the challenge is all-consuming for me. It literally ruins my night, and sometimes taints my emotions the next day, too.

Those feelings in that moment are telling you to take a break. Come back to it later. Let it rest in your subconscious, whatever mental or physical obstacle is in your path, just let it sit there for a while--a day, a week, whatever it takes. But come back to it when you're more relaxed. Chances are, you've worked through the issues in your brain, and now you are ready to accept that challenge and conquer it.

For the chick who has always relished a scholastic challenge, all these new activity-related challenges are forcing me to take another look at how I handle obstacles I'm unaccustomed to facing. And, sad to say, I have found that I tend to act like a child, throwing a minor tantrum. I whine. I stomp around. I huff. "It's not fair!" Ugh, give me a break, little girl. Grow up already!

So I took a step back on three new activities: a particularly challenging route on a climbing wall that I attempted numerous times, only to run out of arm strength while stuck and then fell each time after saying "I can't do it, I give up!"; a tough spin on the pole (previous attempts of which left me slightly bruised and bloodied and ready to quit the class altogether); and baking sourdough bread.

A motley crew, that list.

Two weeks were all I needed. For two weeks, I completely forgot about the climbing. Didn't think about it at all. When I returned, I had a whole new perspective and was ready to use a different technique to conquer that route. I needed space before I was ready to meet that obstacle head-on.

For two weeks, I went over and over and over in my head the exact way I would enter into the pole spin, my leg positioning, I imagined the feel of the momentum and mentally practiced the routine. I came back to the class and managed to get through about a dozen not-half-bad spins that were slightly more graceful than previous attempts. For this challenge, I needed to prepare for it and build up the confidence needed to pull it off successfully.

The bread...that's another story. Since my first successful batch, I've attempted two newer batches that have failed during the rise. They just fell apart and turned all soupy and the yeast lost its elasticity. I tried warmer conditions, cooler conditions, plastic wrap, more rest time. Nothing seemed to work. Bread: 2, Becky: 1. Sourdough yeast is a tough competitor and is definitely not on the home team. I'm not ready to give up entirely, but I need some breathing space on this one before I can come back and tackle this again.

As an aside, I'm diving back into my banjo practice, starting from scratch with lessons from a new teacher. I have a feeling I'll need to put this newly acquired knowledge about myself to work for my music practices as well.

The balancing act

Tucked away behind North Conway, N.H., Cathedral Ledge rises dramatically above its hemlock and white pine neighbors with steep rock ledges. With rock climbing during the summer, ice climbing in winter, this spot is so popular that you might wait a while for your turn to climb.

It took me one year to gather my courage and commit to ice climbing. I wanted to attempt it last year, but chickened out. This year, I purchased two spots in an EMS class, Intro to Winter Climbing (learning the basics of ice climbing and mountaineering) for the man's birthday. I packed a bag full of clothing layers and food. I like to be warm and well-fed, obviously.

After being fitted for our technical gear at the EMS store in town (gear including mountaineering boots, harness, belay device, carabiners, helmets, ice axe, mountaineering axe, crampons), we headed to the ledge for our day-long lesson.

Bulges of yellow and white snow-packed ice awaited, divots from previous climbers showing us the thicker ice to climb and avoid the thinly covered rocks that are the real gear-killers. Snow still lightly covered the hemlock needles, creating a cheery winter scene despite the light misting drizzle that started.

Our lesson began first with learning to climb in boots that do not allow your ankles to flex, a task tougher than you might think. Duck walk (inner arches pointed forward), French technique (sideways walking uphill), and International technique (front foot jammed straight into hill using crampons, back foot sideways with inner arch pointed uphill) allowed us to get to the ice slabs, layers and layers of ice either attached to rocks or acting as a pillar between rocks. Some of it brittle, some of it strong, we would learn by experience how trustworthy the ice--and our technique--would be. And so we began, with our awesome instructor Sara at the helm.

The thing about ice climbing is this: it's really a balancing act more than anything. The gear does most of the work. Sure, you are in charge of ensuring the front of your crampons are securely gripping into the ice for adequate footing. Yes, the axe must be hooked into the ice properly. But you don't need to be in fabulous physical shape to climb. You just need to be well-balanced--ice axe above head, legs spread to form a triangle between the axe and your feet. Swing the pick, kick toes into ice, push up. Repeat.

Thanks to my recent indoor climbing sessions, I've become accustomed to trusting the harness and climbing gear to catch me if I fall. I am now able to look down and around while climbing without any ounce of panic, which is a gigantic step forward for me in conquering my intense fear of heights. This was a fabulous advantage for ice climbing, where the stark beauty of the icy landscape surrounding you is a mental image you'll want to carry with you forever.

I'm not saying it wasn't physically and mentally challenging--it most definitely was both. But for our first time, it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be, and even when I got frustrated, I was still having fun.

We ended our lesson with self-arrest techniques to stop ourselves from sliding down a hill and over a cliff in the snow, an extremely important bit of knowledge for winter activities. Once we shed our gear, the man and I headed to Cranmore Mountain for some more fun on the mountain coaster and snow tubing. Hard work should always be followed up by hard play.

self-trust update

Mind over matter: I went climbing for the second time last night, with a marked mental improvement from my first time--no panic attacks whatsoever! I was even able to look down at my belaying partner while I was way up high without freaking out, getting dizzy, or needing to shore up my courage. Still *slightly* scared about the potential for falling, but overall I did a fabulous job and am proud of this step forward (or upward, as the case may be).

Trust thyself

This is me, learning to climb at a nearby indoor climbing gym last Friday. This particular photo was snapped while I was freaking out, clinging to the wall, panting and unable to move, petrified of being perhaps 30-40 feet above the ground.

I trusted the equipment to catch me if I had fallen, just like when I was ziplining last year. I had trust in my knot-tying ability and in my belaying partner.

But I didn't trust myself. My brain was screaming, "I am extremely scared of heights! I have never done this before! I'm not very strong or sure of myself!"

That sensation of falling, regardless of whether it's on a roller coaster or a zipline, sends me directly into full-blown PANIC mode. I have less control when I'm off the ground. If I can't anticipate what's going to happen, then I can't prepare--and preparation is the main tool (mis)used by all serious worriers.

After I managed to swallow my fear way up there on that wall, I was able to push on and touch the top of the three climbing courses I pursued. I never fell (but even if I had, I would have been caught by the safety ropes and everything would have been okay).

Perfectionism, worry, control, insulating techniques...these are a handful of methods I employ to (wrongly) deal with insecurity. I don't trust myself. Why not? I have always picked myself up when I've fallen and I've gotten through many painful experiences. I am much stronger than I give myself credit for.

2011 has been a year of growth for me thus far. Growth doesn't come without some discomfort at times, but the outcomes are almost always worth the efforts to push past the pain.

In a bid to become stronger and more trusting of myself and my abilities (and let's be honest--also to have a lot of fun and shake things up a bit!), I'm continuing with my dance class for another couple of months, moving into the intermediate level that I never thought I'd be able to accomplish previously. I'm also learning to climb indoors in preparation for outdoor climbing later in the season. In previous years, I would have dismissed these activities, telling myself "I could never do that, I'm not strong enough, I'm too scared of heights, I'm too klutzy," or whatever other absurd notions have kicked around in my brain since youth.

The truth is, I'm getting stronger every day. I'm becoming more graceful (slowly but surely). I did just fine on my first day of climbing. Eventually I will effortlessly dive into a new activity or endeavor because I will have built up a lot more self-confidence. And that's a really superb feeling after decades of self-deprecation.

A better outlet for anxiety

I've got to be honest here, although vague: I've been going through some challenging times in my personal life. My path is obscured a bit. I feel a little lost and unsure. My creativity, my energy seem to be sapped from my life a lot more than I hoped.

When life feels like it's falling down around me, I take solace in creating something beautiful to offset any urge for self-destruction to which I am prone.

One tangible, the other not, my two latest creative endeavors fulfill vastly different emotional needs of mine.

The tangible: Beauty, comfort and security in the form of a quilt. Old jeans, washed and worn until soft, deconstructed into strips only to be reconstructed into a warm blanket. Broken-in denim, sewing project scraps, donated Bahama shorts and indigo material from Africa, all cut freehand, unruly, sewn messily together to create a blue and purple evening sky palette. The back: extremely soft blue flannel, an old bed sheet now put to another use. A great resource for reused crafts: http://craftingagreenworld.com/.

The intangible: A weekly class that I sense will bring out the charismatic goddess inside of me. Time to cast aside the shy outer shell for protection, this class is pushing my boundaries, both physically and mentally. Fun, supportive and challenging, it forces me to live in the present, forget my troubles, become my alter-ego for an hour and focus on the beauty we all have inside by bringing it to the surface.

Thoughts for a meaningful 2011

"Fostering creativity is an exercise in developing your soul and your intellect. It allows you to experience life more profoundly and vibrantly. A life soaked in the elixir of creativity is a life spent in the eternal now. Through creative living, every moment is meaningful."
~Barrie Davenport, How to Live a Meaningful Life

Once upon a time, I was a very creative little girl. My imagination was fierce, all types of art and exploration filled my life and beauty seemed everywhere. Science taught me to focus my energies in a way that stimulated my intellect but didn't nurture my creativity as much as when I was young. I woke up in a fog, wondering when the beauty had left my life. In recent years--after I finished graduate school and had more time to relax--creativity has seeped back into my life. It ebbs and flows, and despite my lack of true artistic ability, I enjoy dipping my toes in those waters once again. I have missed that beauty more than I realized.

"A meaningful life is a process of creation. Like Michelangelo, you must first see the angel in the marble, then begin to carve away to set him free. Decide what is meaningful for you. Who do you want to be? How do you want to live your life? What kind of relationships do you want? Have a vision of your perfect life.

"Then begin carving to create that life. Carve away the excesses that pull you away from what matters most to you. Carve away the limitations, behaviors and beliefs that prevent you from fully enjoying the beauty and creativity of life. As you carve, keep your vision in mind and watch with wonder and discovery as you reveal the angel inside of you.

"A meaningful life is an evolution. It is both the practice of carving and creating. It is the daily awareness and work you do to reveal and refine your authentic self--through relationships, balance, beauty, creativity and personal growth. Today, go create your own meaningful life." ~Barrie Davenport

Okay, so maybe Barrie went a tiny bit overboard with this theme, angels and the like, but I think she has the right idea. I have a sneaking suspicion that my push towards continued personal growth will be very much tied into my need to foster creativity, expand my boundaries, explore new options, let go of fear and try new adventures, surround myself with beauty, inside and out.

"How we live our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." ~Annie Dillard

Glad Tidings

I recently realized that my boredom and stagnation has arrived due in part to lack of work on my emotional self. When we stop pushing ourselves to improve, reflect and explore, we get further away from what makes us unique and interesting to others and content and centered with ourselves.

One of my goals is to be present rather than just be. So yesterday I pulled myself away from the television, dressed in warm clothing and walked the dogs around town at night. It was exactly what we all needed--to savor a beautiful moonlit night by the nearly frozen river. It was a simple act that I used to do daily and have recently let fall by the wayside because I've felt "too busy." I should never be too busy to walk the dogs and enjoy 30 minutes of taking in my surroundings. It's not my hectic schedule, but rather it's my laziness the prevents those walks. Last night I gave myself the gift of motivation and it paid me back in dividends.

My man and I exchanged gifts yesterday, a bit early. I now have a few more tools in my arsenal that are sure to push me beyond my comfort zone: New wetsuit gear for warmth in very cold water (i.e., surfing is not relegated only to warm summer months now), a brand new (hand-made in the U.S.) board that will make surfing easier and more enjoyable for me as I continue to learn. Surfing allows me to be fully present because it's a challenging workout and, as a beginner, I have so much to learn and analyze and think about out there. I don't have time to think about surfing AND worry about what to make for dinner this week or ruminate on projects for work. I experience the wave motion, my body's movements, the force of the water, what works and doesn't work for me. I can laugh at myself when I get tossed by a wave or crack a huge grin when I catch a wave but end up surfing on my belly because I didn't stand up quickly enough.

We also have a gift certificate to take an introductory lesson for the indoor climbing gym nearby, a big step for me with my fear of heights and lack of arm strength. I have a feeling it will do the same thing for me as surfing does: it will get me to focus on what I'm doing in the present, to enjoy and to let go. Yoga does the same thing, and so does contra dancing. All these activities push my boundaries and make me slightly (or more than slightly) uncomfortable at times. They all make me reflect on how I can be better physically and mentally. I leave the experiences ready to embrace life a little larger, I am a better person to those I love, I can rest more easily.

Rather than collect more stuff this season, I remain committed to decluttering my life and simplifying. So, for every item in, it's time to take a few others over to Goodwill. I'll be going through my belongings this evening to see what I can donate to make up for my new gifts. But the best gift of all is knowing that I'm on the cusp of the plateau, about to move forward once again and expand my horizons.

work in progress

Quick self-improvement update!

Last Friday, I forced myself to go to the monthly bluegrass jam, despite not having practiced my banjo in eons. I didn't lead any of the songs, but I strummed along in the background. Even that is really uncomfortable for me, however--anything that calls attention to me in the public eye is super tough for me to do. I seem to have some sort of low-level anxiety attacks. I always enjoy the jams, just not showing off how poorly I play. So I've decided to choose one song per month to practice and get ready for the following month's jam so I can actually lead a song each time. I'm hoping that by next summer, I'll be much more comfortable playing in front of other people so I can spend more time smiling at the jams instead of worrying about their perceptions of my playing abilities. It's a laid-back jam, not the Boston Pops. I need to keep this in mind!

This weekend, I made an effort to stifle my insecurities, worries and negative thoughts that tend to creep up. Instead, I tried my best to project my happier side. It seemed to work quite well, because all weekend I was surrounded by happiness from everyone I spent time with--exactly what I needed for more confidence. Feeling much better this week, which is a great way to start off a rainy Monday.

The Rut

Work, gym, eat, watch movie while knitting, sleep. Repeat. Not my preferred routine but here I am, stuck in this rut with no signs of change. Why? No snow for snowshoeing, too cold to get outside and experience life. Easy excuses. But really, why?

The answer was, at first, elusive. And then it hit me: I had stopped working on emotional self-improvement.

That's why I am stuck, bored, lethargic, zombie-like. My muscles are slowly toning up from the gym, but my brain and soul are in deep hibernation. I don't like this trajectory one bit. Wherefore art thou, balance?

So I revisited my Universe list I wrote two years ago. My friend Amie had told me about this list she made up of all the characteristics she wanted in a mate. She asked the Universe to find a mate that matched those qualities. A month later, she found her fiancee.

I wrote my own Universe list, edited it over and over again, and in that process I realized those are the very same characteristics I needed to manifest in my own life, behaviors I needed to improve for me to be happy with myself, above all else. I began to work on that list for self-improvement. And what do you know, four months after that list was finalized, I met Jeff.

But since then, I have lost touch with many of the traits on that list. "Can communicate well." My communication had essentially shut down recently, for various reasons. "Makes me laugh." When was the last time I experienced something on my own that made me laugh? I frowned. This was not a good sign.

And yet, the great thing about this realization is that now I know the cause for my symptoms. I can treat the real seed of this issue and thus erase my boredom, my zombie expression, my current passive method of living. It's time to shake things up! I have some good ideas that don't require snow to enjoy my life as it is right now in the dead of winter. I think the time has come to shake off that fog and get back in touch with the cool me I know I can be.

My goal: do one thing per day that allows me to change my routine, break out of my shell, get back to the me that I love, practice living actively and in the moment. It can be simple: meditation. It can be big: going to the indoor climbing gym nearby to try something new and somewhat scary. It's time to get back into the life I want to live.

Mountains O' Things

I promise I am not a packrat. I prefer to think of myself as a practical, frugal woman who follows in her ancestors' footsteps.

The truth of the matter is that I come from a long line of Pennsylvania Germans who farmed the land for generations and survived tough times thanks to making do with what they had. The ultimate conservationists, nothing was thrown away until every possible use was wrung out of an item.

Pappy Marbarger kept everything--old toilets, bits of string--because "you never know when you'll need these things." The farmhouse is full of strange inventions that, surprisingly, work quite well, repurposed from whatever old scraps were found hidden in the attic or basement, tucked away for just such a need. But the crawl spaces and extra rooms are filled to the brim with stuff.

Despite having lived in six states and more than 15 apartments over the last decade, I continue to pack up all my old belongings and move it with me each time like a bloated snail moving slowly under all the weight I'm carrying. I've never thrown anything out, mostly because, well, I was broke. And you never know when you'll need something that you can't afford to purchase.

Perhaps there are deeper reasons why we hang on to our old clutter: inability to let go of something in our past, fear or anxiety about our future. I struggle with both of these issues daily, issues that are most likely also fueling my perceived need to hang on to items I really don't want or need. Everett Bogue wrote a fabulous blog entry about how to destroy your past lives and start over: http://www.farbeyondthestars.com/how-to-destroy-your-past-lives-starting-over/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+FarBeyondTheStars+(Far+Beyond+The+Stars)&utm_content=My+Yahoo

Finally, after stumbling over all the stuff in the back room of our small apartment, not even able to find a walking path, we decided it was time. Time to pare down. I was ready to defy my ancestry, to embrace an existence with fewer chains to my past and to my fears.

I wish I could say that the real reason behind all this was due to two awesome blogs I follow: www.farbeyondthestars.com (by Everett Bogue, as mentioned above) and www.rowdykittens.com (by Tammy Strobel), both of which discuss ways to simplify and declutter, and thus live a more fulfilling, non-materialistic life. While these two blogs were instrumental in allowing me to finally let go of all the unnecessary stuff, the true impetus was Jeff. Specifically, Jeff's growing business that requires precious storage space; also, Jeff's sanity.

We started on a Tuesday. Each day in between jobs, Jeff pawed through his mountain of old magazines and books, papers and pens. I tackled my clutter--old shoes, t-shirts I've had since middle school--after work each day. Saturday night came around. We had planned to walk around Portland, ME and then hit a contra dance in Falmouth. No dice. Cleaning was priority at this point. It looked like a tornado of old junk hit our place, piles halfway to the ceiling of boxes topped with bags. We had hit the final leg of our journey to a decluttered room, our first step towards a decluttered life. Finally, we finished around 10 p.m. after an exhausting week of organizing, cleaning, donating, recycling, throwing out.

What was the final tally?

-Four carloads of old clothes, kitchenware, appliances, shoes, lamps and books donated to Goodwill

-One gigantic box full of novels and DVDs donated to the Dover Public Library

-Three very large bins full of recycled materials--including my old, not-even-functioning-for-years laptop and numerous floppy disks and zip disks!! Why did I hang on to that stuff?!

-A 20-minute backyard fire to incinerate papers that had account numbers on them (seriously, I had BAGS of papers like this sitting in the corner for a year)

-A 19" tube tv and a decent three CD/two cassette (!!!) tape stereo that I haven't used in at least a year or two, given to work acquaintances

-A nice set of winter jacket/pants/rain jacket donated to the homeless guy that hangs out on our street and sleeps in the woods nearby

-Two boxes of clothes and books for my mom and aunt who might be interested; if not, off to Goodwill with these items too


-We traded in the Jeep for a Subaru Outback that week, too--better gas mileage, lower car payments, much better storage options. It's honestly a simpler, better choice for us right now, and while it's not technically considered getting rid of clutter, it's helping us move towards a more streamlined existence.

I willingly admit that I still have more stuff to sort through and downsize: stacks of scrap material for sewing; piles of colored paper for various crafts; containers of curtains not currently being used; boxes of photos I haven't looked at in years. But this was a huge first step for me, one that was long overdue. Once I caught up on sleep and relaxation, it felt liberating to be free of some of the junk. The act of clearing out the clutter makes me think about what else I can do to downsize. I want to do more. I like this feeling. I don't have a strong desire to replace all the clutter with new items. I like having less.

Full disclosure: I did acquire one item during this time period of paring down--a tiny 55-lb. anvil! Right now, it serves as a great conversation piece in our apartment, but it will be right at home when we finally get our own place and set up a small blacksmith shop. And honestly, how often does an anvil come freely across the doorstep of someone who loves the metal arts? This was a tiny step backwards in the journey of paring down, but I'd gladly give away a box full of anything else to keep my new anvil. Priorities, people. Priorities.


My next goal (potentially; do I have the guts to do it?): wear only 33 items for the rest of the year. Check it out: http://www.peaceandprojects.com/blog/2010/10/wearing-only-33-items-for-85-days/

Or check out the original inspiration for this, the Minimalist Fashion Project 333 (33 items worn in 3 months): http://www.bemorewithless.com/2010/minimalist-fashion-project-333-begins/

My list is currently at 55; I have more wardrobe whittling to do.

Have your own story about clearing out the clutter? Were you inspired by someone to simplify and get rid of material items to improve your quality of living? Feel free to let me know how you were motivated!

NOLA

To check out a map of our Delta drive travel route, go here:

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&source=embed&msa=0&msid=115398075535804411901.000494a2ebf2a94403083&ll=31.334871,-90.043945&spn=9.582333,9.206543&z=6

Our arrival into NOLA went off with a bang, as should be expected when your hotel is located at the corner of Canal and Bourbon Street. Hit and run, mom's rental car was wrecked on the back end. With all the traffic backed up, I actually ran after the woman--who was likely drunk--and verbally berated her while she pretended it didn't happen and refused to look at me through her open window. Mom's nerves were frazzled by the time the police report and calls to the insurance and rental car companies were completed. Time to enjoy drinks in the back courtyard of Napoleon's, a local hotspot in the French Quarter known for their Pimm's Cup: gin, tonic and cucumber, yum! Just what the doctor ordered.

I was attending Sea Grant Week, during which the communicators had a service project--plant Spartina grasses along the edge of Big Lake in NOLA's City Park to reduce shoreline erosion. In most parts of the country, this plant is considered an invasive species, taking over and choking out native vegetation. But down there, it's an important local plant with good root structure to hold the soil in place.

Tools of the trade: you dig a little wedge in the muck, stick the plant roots in and then push the wedge back in the muck nearby to tuck the plant in place.

On the left: the Spartina we just planted sparsely. On the right: Spartina planted one year ago. Check out how quickly it grows in!

Afterward, we ambled around the sculpture garden.

Had an alligator sausage po'boy--"all dressed"--for lunch. A little greasy and chewy, but at the time I was glad I tried it. However, it's pretty horrific hearing about their methods of capturing the alligators for their meat. This was probably the last time I will eat this creature due to intense guilt.

Later that evening, joined up with some friends and checked out a number of local haunts: The Port of Call for a monsoon and baked potato, jazz at the Spotted Cat, beignets at Cafe du Monde (open 24 hours). This city truly never sleeps. Ear plugs are a necessity if you want to catch some shuteye, even at 4 a.m.

Between the conference presentations and forgetting my camera at the hotel, I am lacking photos of the French Quarter. Rest assured, I explored the area for hours, enjoying the music: cajun, zydeco, jazz, blues, folk, even some bluegrass/old time on the streets. Old bookshops, back alleyways, open air markets, window shopping, watching how the locals live.

The garden district of the city is lovely and bursting at the seams with huge, immaculate homes. Kristen and mom drove me out there so we could enjoy a little walk together.

Amazing ironwork!

Gorgeous old cemeteries!

This city is in a beautiful state of permanent decay, enriched with history, steeped in myth, and yet people always think of dirty Bourbon Street, the only place I've ever seen that requires street cleaning--with soap!!--each morning.

Wonder what that's doing to the waterways every day. But if you've smelled Bourbon Street and tried not to step in the mystery liquid puddles, you'll agree that the soap is necessary. But it's never lacking in interesting people and activities.
The Budweiser clydesdales, along with their dalmation, stopped by too.

One last little tidbit: we stumbled upon what seemed to be amateur night at some blues club. Oh man. If you can imagine the intersection of William Shatner and Elvis, you'll arrive at Ready Teddy: The Swamp Daddy. My jaw was actually agape. I am having technical difficulties uploading the videos (they are looooong, which is the problem), so please stand by for a random post sometime later highlighting this dude and his acrobatics!