A Piece of History

History has always been a fascination to me with it's grief, lessons, and inspiration. The acts of those who lived before us shaped who we are, and I think having Futuristic as my #1 Strength is strongly related to my value and respect of our past. Every time I read a piece of our history, I grimace at how we repeat failure and smile at how we build on success for more innovation.

Lecture over.

I got the coolest EVER Christmas gift ... a medieval (circa 1100s) 'polychrome bird' Limoges mount that would have decorated a cup. As we already know, Limoges is famous for it's enamels, and by the early 1100s, goldsmiths at Conques' Benedictine abbey were able to produce these enameled panels with extra vivid colours for that time period.

This panel came to me at a specifically interesting moment as I have been reading She Wolves: The Women who Ruled before Elizabeth by Helen Castor. As is typical with how my brain works, the puzzle pieces have been coming together for our early first millennium period in the West as all the Cadfael shows that I've watched many times suddenly gained context with this book. The civil war between Matilda and Stephen was the backdrop of Cadfael, but knowing little about the war itself, the book enlightened me on how politically brilliant Matilda, not to mention a lion of a woman, and how she maneuvered Stephen into a position where he would step down in lieu of her own son, Henry II. Granted, she was the rightful heir, but her focus was the dynastic reign, and she won in the long run for that goal. 

During this time, this panel was being made for an English cup, and for whom? Of course we cannot know, but on my mantle is a physical reminder of how England was shaped. 

Just for a final piece of ironic knowledge, Henry II married Eleanor of Aquitaine before he became Henry II, but had inherited the Duke of Normandy title. Her lands met at the borders of his (Normandy, Brittany, Anjou) and took them on down to the Pyrenees, which included Bordeaux (very special point of wine interest) and, of course, Limoges. So I can't help but smile that this was made in Eleanor's land, who would become a powerful woman in her own right, for a nobleman in Matilda's rightful land, who ceded her right to avoid further war and to continue the dynasty.

Right. I promised that the lecture was over. But it's SO cool! ...and it appeals to my female nature.

Anyway, this new acquisition resulted in a massive re-organisation of my library. Books were re-classified. Some books were cut. My literature section is finally approachable, with each shelf representing a different type of literature [Pic 1]. All books are in chronological order for my world history with my nice sets beside it [Pic 2], and I am happily able to have an entire natural history section [Pic 3 bottom]. My US History section is a little woeful, but I'll work on it [Pic 3 top]. Finally, my old books (starting in 1724), thanks to my mother's wonderful generosity, are proudly displayed on the mantle [Pic 4].

All of this from a square inch piece of history :) God only know what will happen when I get my 1650 pen and ink back from the framers on January 9!

Making Post-Malta Anniversaries Count

That, my friend, is not easy. Spending two and a half weeks in Malta and Rome for one's anniversary and then Christmas with the family is pretty amazing (2002, 2007, 2012). Especially when it's an every-five-year ritual and one gets comfortable visiting the same precious memories that have been carefully building over time since the honeymoon days.

So, what in the world does one do for those between years? We have floundered in the hopelessness of making those years special, but I think we nailed it this year. Eleven years and after three Maltese celebrations, we realised that we simply can't replace the specialty of what Malta has to offer. Thus, we headed back to a place we adore, Boulder, and visited our favourite haunts.

And that's where we nailed it. Instead of visiting NEW places and trying NEW things, aren't anniversaries more about reflection? Surviving eleven years with the same partner without becoming stale and routine is insanely difficult. Especially when you have an Eric and a me in the picture. We are both easily bored, futuristic, business focused, and selfish. Wow. Now you know why I use the word survival. It's not for a lack of love, just surviving those circumstances and still loving one another that is a special feat, and certainly requires that reflection we were missing in previous non-Malta years.

The one new experience we did have on our anniversary was at a wonderful bistro in Boulder called Fresca's. Dear God. Sublime. Delicious. Pigalicious. We had the chef's table in the kitchen and were spoiled with extra little snacks they sneaked us between courses, not to mention a wonderful extra goblet of wine for tasting purposes, of which we now both want a case, thanks to the chef here who seems to be deep in conversation with future delicious plans in the photo below, and for what Eric and I have now dubbed as Food Prostitution.

The next day was Sunday, so it seemed only appropriate to check out Denver memories, which of course had to include Pint's Pub, a run by Wash Park where Eric spent approximately millions of hours doing sports, and a stop by the art museum. However, as we walked around the north end of Cherry Creek where all the chic little shoppes were, we found ourselves a bit unhappy, and then remembered how little time we actually spent in Denver.

Thus, off to the mountains we go :)

I must say, our anniversary gifts to each other were truly fantastic as in they were sentimentally valuable. Our two favourite shoppes visited with wonderful gifts (amusingly, both under $20 and consumable) in Idaho Springs, we settled in for a night of pinball. Of course. And it was awesome with Moscow Mules, burgers, and lots of dollars to make change for the pinball machines.

So for years 12, 13, and 14, we will certainly seek out the sentimental trips, reminding us of our own history, and what makes us who we are. Still, we're really looking forward to year 15 for another nostalgic visit to Malta, because, well, it's awesome there.

'Tis the season....

After a solid week of festive eating that included my cranberry chutney, tangerine-cranberry conserve, pies, duck, chicken, and turkey all stuffed with a variety of fruits and breads, I lurch from the dinner table into the new season of Christmas! While I am rarely tempted down the path of the Christmas card trap, I figured out a way to make it meaningful at least to myself. Let's make the point clear that I am in no way an artist, but a person who loves to play with paint. I did take a watercolouring adventure, and between my own imagination and seeing an example of what the artist did, I was officially inspired for my Christmas postcards. 

Shockingly, they did not turn out the way the artist did it (I know, HUGE surprise!) ... however, I rest in the knowledge that I did not have a bamboo brush as she did. Although I would love to have a bamboo brush (massive hint for all the people who have yet to rush out and get me a gift), I also recognise that there will be less of an epiphany and more of a confirmation that there is a little more difference than the brush ... LOL!

Regardless, I had fun! Frankly, that's what counts for me, and perhaps the aura of joy I had is embedded and can be felt by the recipient. For those who like sappy thoughts, re-read the last sentence. For those of who you do not like sappy thoughts, walk away and fix yourself a drink.

Ellie gets to do her cards tonight. For those on her list, I have NO idea what they are getting. It could be a Christmas tree painting, or it could be a drawing of a T-rex eating a herd of water buffalo. Either is equally likely.

Rituals

Rituals have a variety of value, ranging from goofy to completely essential. I have no idea where the little ritual that Eric and I have developed falls, but it seems to be somewhere in the middle.... approximately categorized as "fun". Our ritual? Sit down at a huge breakfast and dive into the Wall Street Journal. I remember taking this paper back when I worked in insurance during college and started my mornings off with a tea and either a huge omelet or my biscuits and gravy...depending on whether I stopped at Acapulco Joe's or Le Peep's on my way between the car park and the skyscraper that stole my soul for four years, but I was all right with it.

Now that we have an official nest, it seemed only appropriate to re-build such a ritual. I have the subscription digitally too, but it's so much more interesting with the physical paper, right down to the paper delivery missing our porch by yards every morning. Not only do we get to criticise, empathise, and jabber about world politics for 30 minutes each morning, but we get starter for our fires as well. Difficult to beat.

Today's commentary included new heaping mockery and overall humour with the ObamaCare update that the President is losing his own party with this debacle that any insurance OR technology professional saw coming miles away. As I muse about the insane system meltdown the insurance companies are experienced based on my own four year dedication to  the hellhole of insurance, Eric spent his time rambling about "this is why Agile must be embraced at the enterprise level ... just teams won't cut it....." There was more but I think I was only half listening. Or maybe not at all.

More commentary involved sniffing haughtily at the wine recommendations for the holiday (ALL from California....really?), rolling eyes at the Methodist Church for thinking technology can solve the attrition issues for church membership, smiling hugely at the child who got his wish from Make A Wish Foundation that turned San Francisco into Gotham City as he played his Batkid role, feeling miserable about the Philippines' situation, and actually feeling empathy for the poor President, who really just wanted his name in history as the lightening rod for providing health coverage for every American, but simply didn't understand the economics and systems involved. Hopefully his motivations will get some recognition beyond the rather massive errors made once the dust settles.

Breakfast over. 

Posh Dining ... Brought to you by Posh!

There's no question, Posh's improvisational cuisine is one of my absolute favourite personal indulgences in Scottsdale. After the Waldolf-Astoria, in fact, our 2014 anniversary is already planned with a repeat of such wonderful hotel luxury for the weekend sprinkled with dining at places with fond memories. Anyway, I digress. Let's begin the entourage of glorious food.....

Tasting....prosciutto with some insanely amazing sauce that sounded complicated.

Salad...before this, I had no idea endive salad could be 1) so amazing and 2) so beautiful.

Uni...otherwise known as sea urchin. My big risk and frankly, something that I'd rather not repeat. Waaaaay too rich for my blood.

Ahi Tuna...reasonably convinced that you can never, ever go wrong with this dish.

Goat...with the most ridiculously amazing couscous on the planet. I have no idea how they did it. Anyway, the goat was good. It's also a bit rich for me, but something very enjoyable on a limited level.

Flourless cake with cinnamon ice cream and chocolate wedges? Seriously? Did they confuse me as an individual with a party of four to share? Wow. It was SO amazing but impossible to finish.

My deepest appreciation for any place that has a hunk of cheese this size laying about the kitchen.

Arizona

I love a place that gives me extremes. I can hang over a cliff at the Grand Canyon one day, sit by a crater made by a meteor another day, stare at a tonne of petraglyphs and ancient ruins yet another day, and finally, not least of which can one soak the joys of high end shopping in downtown Scottsdale.

You can feel like an ancient explorer, and then quickly transition into flitting between Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada, stopping for a Prosecco and oyster lunch. That, I believe, was the major enjoyment and attraction for me while living here, and this return trip has confirmed it.

However, the real draw, I now remember, are the animals and plants. The cactus is simply amazing to me, and always will be. It was frustrating to not be able to buy more and bring them back with me. At the various places we stayed across Arizona, we saw wild pygmy rabbits, white-tailed antelope squirrels, collared peccaries, mule deer, desert spiny lizards, and pronghorns. The list of birds unique to the area is pretty long, but especially frequently sited included a ridiculous amount of quail, black-chinned hummingbirds, steller jays, roadrunners, thrashers, and waxwings ... and those are only the ones identified. Holding really still in the desert certainly brings focus on the wildlife in a beautiful way.

Here are some photos and videos of specific areas we experienced on different day excursions....

Fort Apache

Desert and Wildlife Museums

Pima Air and Space

Tombstone / Ghost Towns

Tonight is a very special night though, as it is the official gourmet splurge at Posh's improvisational cuisine. Tell them what you don't like or can't eat, and then they make up a menu specifically for you. Just a LITTLE excited..........!

Practices of Luxury

It's important that when you plan a trip to the desert to search out ghost towns, hike dusty trails, discover amazing ruins, enjoy wonderful food, and struggle through wine tastings, that the evening oasis' are selected with care. The Tucson adventure, for the past week, had evenings spent at the JW's Starr Pass resort with a fantastic view of Tucson below on one side, and Saguaro National Park on the other side. Absolutely zero complaints as it always nice to indulge in special treatment. Now I sit in North Scottdale's Waldolf Astoria resort realising that my expectations in travel spoils have been brought up another notch while I plot my next visit. Next week's paltry resort down in Tempe is technically a very nice condo, but.... but.....

Anyway, I'm spoiled freaking rotten to get these opportunities, and I'm excited that I get to share the experiences with friends :) So far the ones with me seem very happy and are enjoying the scenery, experiences, and treats.

Onward to champagne in a huge comfy leather chair in front of a gorgeous fire with the door open to the stars that I think can be touched!

(It's important to understand that reality is not required until November 11....and there it will wait...)

Pest Control Issues

Those who say they have squirrel problems have obviously not dealt with bear problems. I used to think I had issues with my squirrels, and of course the rats from our creek, but after some careful and patient work, I finally had all the varieties of birds on the right feeders, the squirrels in the corn area, and the rats just doing their normal pilfering.

Then came the bears. Not just any bears, but dumpster diving bum bears. This one is sneaking away from our detached garage with a seed covered floor and heading into our neighbor's garden.

The first encounter was Momma Bear and her adorable triplets. She had quite a path made available to her. I'm still blown away that a big ass bear and her babies can saunter through town, but there we are. The beast wrecked my $120 squirrel proof feeder and mistook my bird bath as a stool. That aside, no major damage, but I still grumble.

However, it has become clear that this is more of on-going issue as another bear decided to wipe out my carefully sorted and organised seed in the garage cupboards. Since I am in Colorado at the time of this invasion, it was easy for me to be critical of our friend who is staying there to not shoo him away. However, I suspect that the bear's younger age and smaller size would not have mitigated my hiding in the house until he had his fill either.

My rather huge issue is that I have quite the gig going for my literally hundreds of birds, ten squirrels, and creek rat, dubbed Ratty. If I keep all their wares in the garage, we see the consequences. However, leaving it in the house attached to the garage seems a bad plan since those doors are open throughout the day while working. A bear with motivation in accessing the house seems a bad plan.

So you see, we have a pest problem, and there's nothing I can really do about it except take pictures and growl about it.

Themed Tours for Friends

As we have settled into a nice sized home and have ample room for visiting guests, I have started developing thematic tours of various Asheville pleasures. These include consignment shopping tours, chocolate tours, beer tours, coffee shoppe tours, wine tasting tours, hiking options, and waterfall tours. Many of these tours have been crafted as a result of experiences with friends who have already visited. For example, I have discovered that my chocolate tour may be a little intense and the sugar high keeps people up very late. Fortunately we managed to figured out that a different coffee shoppe each morning was a much better way to handle that type of exploration. If four chocolate encounters puts somebody into an altered state, God only knows what ten coffee shoppes in a row could do.....

Today was the first run of the waterfall tour, which I believe was successful. Starting out very early, we got a gorgeous view of the post-sunrise hour.

After several pull-off experiences staring across the mountain top horizon, we got to the edge of waterfall territory. While western North Carolina is flooded (ha!) with waterfalls, Pisgah National Park is especially full of them, numbering over 100. This overwhelming number drove me to find a waterfall map that saved us many errant hours of walking fruitlessly in woods for no reason. Red dots marked the less scenic and annoying-to-reach waterfalls, while the friendly blue ones drew our interest. Additionally, there were helpful hiking instructions such as "loop hike combines Buckhorn Gap Trail and Avery Creek train, passing confusing side paths and junctions".... major red flag. Thank you map! There were additionally helpful notes that identified waterfalls that could be seen from the road, which strongly piqued our interest.

This is Skinny Dip Falls, and although we were tempted to turn back after half a mile or so because we thought maybe the trail maker thought we simply wanted to get our exercise (ha!), but the sound of the roaring waterfall kept us moving. It was worth it, but pretty slippery rock trail that made us grateful for wearing proper hiking boots.

Second Falls wasn't very far from Skinny Dip Falls and was connected via car jaunt to the next pull off :) Nice little walk down, although the stairs at the end were enough to blow up lungs. Apparently Upper Falls was very close in relation, but we voted against the extra 1.5 miles.

Looking Glass Falls is one of my favourites and is in close proximity (20 minutes by car) to the other waterfalls, and many more really. This is most beautiful in winter, but always stunning ... and close to the road. Really close.

This concludes the first effort at the waterfall tour. May there be many more tweaks.

Winning....Or maybe not.

Winning is not something that is necessarily a difficult thing .... I do reasonably well in sports, excelled in martial arts, won intellectual awards, and can generally work things in my direction positively. However, winning anything with Eric being my opponent is simply impossible. The best I can do with chess is stalemate, simply forget any board game that takes an iota of strategy, just double any of my best pinball scores for him, it's very tiring to fully take on his brain, and I am crushed all around in anything sporting.

For example....

Foosball.

OK, it's foosball, who cares, right? I do. Because it's just another example of being crushed by my husband. Suddenly feeling nostalgic of the "old days" with his first employer where he was an excellent foosball player (fantastic, actually), I stupidly agreed to play a few games with him at his current employer's when we were at the headquarters in Colorado.

Drops the ball.....SWAT! Score.

Really? Did you put in the ball?

Fine.

Drops the ball....SWAT! Score.

I was really excited that time. I barely nicked the ball with one of my handles.

Drops the ball....SWAT! SWAT! Score.

Wow, it took two swats for him. I'm simply dynamite.

SWAT! Score.
SWAT! Score.
SWAT! Score.

Nevermind.

Let's play something else. Such as anything else. Oh! Darts!

My breath is shallow, quick. Is it possible? Would all those hours and all those years playing darts as a kid work to my puny advantage?

YES!!!!!! The man is crushed. Destroyed. Buried.

This picture will be in my hall of records.

Annoying factors with this situation.

1. Eric was really happy for me.
2. Eric starts quickly learning how to score at a rate far faster than anybody else I've helped when giving technical tips.

*sigh*

Here we go....

The ER visits were bound to get started. After all, Elle is six years old, and it seems that is the time kids start "experimenting" at whole new levels. Why Elle thought it would be appropriate to do a 360 backflip off of the back of the couch will always be a mystery, especially to her, but her personalised feedback of five stitches on the chin was more effective than any kind of warning I could have given.

I must say, she was possibly the bravest person ever when it came down to brass tacks and had to have almost ten anesthetic shots directly in her laceration. Yes, they certainly put on a topical before the anesthesia shots, but they were still braced for the screaming. Shockingly, nothing came except for severe shaking. It's possible that I was crumbling like an autumn leaf in the wind, wishing to God that I could take it for her and reliving my own stitching experiences, but she was utterly perfect for them. It is my guess that she had an intrinsic knowledge that moving, yelling, or talking would make the situation worse, but still.

The hospital rewarded her with with not one, but TWO cuddlies to take home :)

Sadly, the next day, she tried to flip off the chair. It would appear that this lesson applies only to the couch, and not to the concept.

Yes, many more trips to ER. I see them coming.

Why I'm in the Smokies

Granted, there are many reasons we bought a house in Asheville, and they are similar reasons to why I want a getaway home in Nederland, Colorado. Wonderful mountains, gorgeous lakes and waterfalls, cool town atmospheres and the perfect weather. I actually prefer the snow in the Rockies over the lack of snow in the Smokies, but it's nice to have such temperate weather in Asheville too.

I digress....

As I had my morning walk, I could not help but be struck with the beauty of Beaver Lake as the fog remained from the early morning before starting to roll off and up the mountains. After being too sick to even walk much last week, it was extra nice to simply be out ... running errands ... taking my lake walk in sweater weather .... and simply appreciating life.

...and when I get home? Yes, it is sweater weather in the morning and evenings after all, so there's nothing more relaxing and calming for me than turning my head from working to see this scene, slipping over to the rocker for a cuppa, and then migrating back to work.

I always knew the day would come where this flow of life would be normal, and thankfully we were patient with the timing, place, and planning. And lucky.

My Great Colorado Deluge Experience

Coming from the sunny and humid New Orleans the previous week, it was an even greater shock to transition to not only much cooler temperatures than normal for a September Boulder, but also a very very wet one. The first day of constant rain was mostly just 40 people sitting at tables with an attitude of "I'll nick an umbrella from the hotel". The second day was glum for most of us, and nearly suicidal for most local Bouderites as rain for more than an hour is typically the maximum. The third and fourth days of constant rain was a growing empathy for how drowning rats must feel with a certain "who cares" if one has an umbrella or not. It wasn't just a little sprinkle. I mean RAIN. Constantly. Add dam breaks in a couple counties and .... well, you can imagine.

Personally, my heart was crushed. I did go out for the conference and it was well worth it, but secretly, I was very homesick for Colorado and needed the "other mountains" in my life. Not only could I not see them despite being right next to them, but I had no way to access them even by foot. Let's just say the pathways were blocked....

At least I managed to get into Idaho Springs and Nederland for our mountain village "fixes" before the Deluge actually started. Eric got his pinball hour and I got my street wandering. Unfortunately for Eric, he fell in love with the fantasy setting machine, but it runs about 10k for the cheapest available. While it is truly awesome to hit trolls with the balls, it looks like Captain Hook will be our sole pinball entertainment at home :)

The essence of Colorado, for me, is sitting 8k feet up just outside of Nederland and staring at the gorgeous lake; something I did often while living there and that I do every time I visit, although the winter vistas are much more stunning. Someday I'll have a second home there. Some day! (Thank God that dam didn't break .... *shudder*)

Meanwhile, while we did get a taste of helping clean up from rock slides on the road, which was one of the more enjoyable and rewarding community efforts I have experienced, we were mostly trapped and wishing we were ducks. More tragic were the restaurant closures of my favourite places. Apparently the locals felt the urgent need to resolve the rivers flowing through their yards and pull their belongings from the lakes in their homes. While the absurdly huge Challenger that Eric and I rented was able to get in many more places than other vehicles, no one was traveling certain paths.....LOL....

New Orleans Review

All in all? A complete ball of fun! With breakfast starting at the bar (below was photographed at 9am) and post-dinner ending with live music, it's really difficult to improve on that. Explorations included down the peninsula to the marina south of Venice, over to the Gulf, and west where so many plantations sat beside the Mississippi. Food was divine, although my body went into complete crave mode for rabbit food and water when I returned.

Click here for full photo album.

Click here for several music clips from New Orleans.

Returning won't be hard - my favourite hangout was the coffee shoppe next to Garden District Book Shop. Add in all the wonderful little secrets that a colleague so generously shared with me, and the least I can do is return the favour! Below are the best spots in the immediate region. Click on the icons for notes.

Meanwhile, if you decide to go, make sure you do the self-walk in the Garden District, and do a toured walk in the French District. It is well worth your time with all sorts of interesting tidbits to discover.

View The Southern Adventure in a larger map

Music - The Soul of New Orleans

I cannot experience enough music. While a complete food addict and lover of history, it would not be a complete journey here in the Big Easy without the music. Thus, this post exists to convince you that it's worth your time and effort to come down for music, if nothing else. Firstly, be aware that music is everywhere and if you're on Frenchman Street, constant. Before I torture you with the pleasures of Frenchman Street though, take a listen to a night at Tipatino's Music Club. Funnily enough, I went to hear the brass band; however, the steel band blew me away. They could have played all night and I'd have been just fine.

Note for watching clips - let it buffer first!

Meanwhile, the street music is no joke. Brass band after brass band litters the French Quarter in the nicest possible way. In fact, I don't think I've seen more sousaphones in my entire life as much as I have just in the past days! Even the bars along Bourbon Street have live music pounding out regularly, allowing yourself to wander the bands much like exhibits at a museum. This example isn't the finest playing I saw, but they certainly were having fun, and it's a good view into street life here.

Now, onward to Frenchman Street, easily the best street in New Orleans, although the dreamy shoppes and boutiques on Royal Street are really close. I have posted the video clips in order of the night. I believe the quality of the music goes up in such order as well, although I have no complaints with any of them. Let's start with the honky tonk yet loveable band with a washboard at 8p. 

Here you'll find yourself watching a fantastic swing band that apparently had been playing since 6p, but ended at 10p, so I only got an hour in of the awesome music and dancing starting at 9p. I thought it was incredibly cool that the piano player was puffing on a stogie the entire time. Personally, my motivation for picking back up the dancing with Eric has skyrocketed. It wasn't too hard to imagine what 1920's New Orleans may have been like. The hour flew by with the combination of the music and the excellent dancing that was there.

Finally, I'll close with a couple of my favourites from the Uptown Jazz Orchestra; a slightly more pricey affair at $25, especially compared to the $5 or just the house rule of "1 drink per set"; however, incredibly and totally well worth it. I even got to dance with the old guy in the last video, who liked to demonstrate "aging" ... until he starts dancing. Wow. Apparently it is I who is old.

Louisiana's Haunted Plantations (book review)

Louisiana's Haunted Plantations by Jill Pascoe
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

View all my reviews

Ghosts and Pirates

While it is true that the ghost bug has bitten me rather hard, give me some credit in that if it had to happen, at least it took New Orleans, the most haunted city, and Louisiana, the state of the most haunted plantations to do it! Having always believed in ghosts since my "experience" in Hadrian's tomb (a place in Rome where I will never return), having an existing fettish over Western ghost town hunting, and always having been a freak for literature of the supernatural, it's not hard for me to get more curious.

Oak Alley (above), a rather famous, but frankly, just another one of the load of plantations in Louisiana, is supposedly haunted by a lady in black. The setting of 28 live oak trees dating back 300 years only adds to the romantic idea of ghosts. Of course, the movie setting of one of my adored supernatural writers, Anne Rice, book called An Interview of the Vampire just adds to my peaking at floorboards carefully for hatches where vampires might be sleeping. Alas, there were none. Only slightly more realistically, I picked up a book called Haunted Plantations. I am halfway through it and combined with a book called America's Great River Road for Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana, a second foray into the Deep South is being planned.

My own experience with a ghost followed that evening in an old bar now called Sylvain's. This fantastic little secret has it's own mixologist concocting drinks such as prosecco and lavender with a sugar cube. Their Dead Man's Wallet was pretty amazing too with rye, port, lemon, and their own in-house cinnamon syrup. Sweet death. Speaking of death, the lights started flickering in pretty extreme measures that had no correlation with how normal flickering happens with dead bulbs (if six of the suddenly decided to go at once at least). I made a joke asking if the local ghost was making a statement. Startled with the response of "yeah, just one", I suddenly noticed the shot of alcohol being maintained on a top shelf as if it was to be drunk. It was explained to me that their ghost was quite tall, but she like her drinks, demanding a replacement at that moment. How cool! It was confirmed that the liquid does disappear at times with no ability to blame dissipation :) Besides, it's far more fun to bar-tend for a ghost. While I'm not allowing myself to start Haunted New Orleans until I'm done with Haunted Plantations, I was more than happy to commandeer this book, and others, from Anne Rice's favourite book store, Garden District Book Store.

Now pirates are equally cool, although I'm learning that our current literature puts them in a far more romantic light than we deserve. Once a blacksmith shop, the Jean Lafitte bar is full of stories in general, but especially his saving New Orleans in the War of 1812 when he agreed to work with General Andrew Jackson. It is told that the Old Absinthe House attic is where they met to agree upon terms for helping kick out the British. Saved by a pirate. Rock on! I'm extending my reading on piracy and journals from pirates in the book titled The Mammoth Book of Pirates.

New Orleans .... the long way!

New Orleans has always been a place of interest for me, especially in the food category, so living much closer than I ever had before (6 hours), I brilliantly manage to make the trip down into a massive 13 hour challenge. It was all in a great cause though .... fantastic food! Having just been to a women's entrepreneur type of conference in Seattle, I picked up the Cake n Whiskey, a great magazine full of entrepreneurial stories. The one was about Helen's Bar B Q in Brownsville, TN; a story that made me hungry immediately. Never having visited Mississippi or Louisiana before, the long way through Memphis and straight down western Mississippi was a happy excuse for Helen's.

Before Helen's, however, was of course hunger around Nashville. Since I was already on a roll for finding "amazing dives", I searched for the cheapest and highest rating place on the Find. Eat. Drink. app. Voila, Mas Tacos Por Favor popped up, adverting Mexican street food to die for. As you can see by the photos above, this is no lie. Their pulled pork tacos are the best, in my opinion.

Back to Helen though .... surviving the snack attack in Nashville without lowering one's self down to fast food, BBQ was a mere two hours to go. Every mile and moment was utterly worth it. Essentially a roadside stand with four walls, this heaven will be well worth the 14 hour round trip for future BBQ cravings when my own Asheville Luella's down the street simply doesn't cut it. Both Helen and her husband was there, and they are possibly some of the nicest people on the planet. 

Completely stuffed to the gills with the earlier tacos (really should have had just one) and now BBQ with the appropriate pairing with extra crispy Cheetos, it is off on the adventure through Mississippi. Granted, the highway part of it was no different than other southern states, but the detour on the Natchez Trace Parkway between Jackson and Natchez was truly beautiful. While easily distracted with Indian mounds that were starting to appear around 942 AD, there was even older history to see with the petrified forest, otherwise understood as a 35 million year old logjam. Below is one of the many amazing specimens.

Now safely in New Orleans, more posts will be coming on the beautiful and delicious locale. However, before I close, if you are even down close to Fort Gibson in Mississippi, you must stop. When General Grant, from the Civil War, said that the town was too beautiful to burn, he wasn't kidding. The town is antebellum heaven.

The Buried Book (book review)

The Buried Book: The Loss and Rediscovery of the Great Epic of Gilgamesh by David Damrosch
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Into the Wild (book review)

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

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Seattle? Or Paris?

My first trip to Seattle matched all the stories I had heard.

Beautiful!
Perfect weather!
Coffee shoppes everywhere!
Great food!
Amazing animals and nature!
Eclectic!
Clean!

So as I wandered about the somewhat Old World type of streets, dashing into a wee eatery for an amazing breakfast burrito, I ask myself why I had not bothered with the northwest previously. It was so gorgeous both in beauty and weather, not to mention the landscape I saw flying in.

Then I remembered the question that always popped into my mind when I grimaced at the $800-1000 plane tickets.

"Why would I do that when I go to Paris for less?"

Well, there we are. Unfortunately, the conundrum will be even worse because now it's no longer a guess, but a reality that Seattle is very cool too. Decisions, decisions.

The Trials of Holiday Time

First, let me share a story of the ludicrous; a story that caused this post in the first place.

Eric flies out, on average, three times month to clients and conferences. I travel, on average, once a month, although driving is more common because I typically drop off the wee one to my parents (or meet them), or even bring her with me to wherever I'm going depending on the situation. While we typically try to take advantage of opportunities to bring us together, however, we missed this one. 

Eric was flying to Hartford CT and I was flying to Seattle on the same day. We were happy enough to be out the same day, but then we both commented that we're going through Chicago ORD. Really! Time passes and Eric noted how funny it would be if we accidentally ended up on the same flight. How ludicrous! What's your flight time? 423. Oh! Knowing that I flew in the afternoon too, and also knowing that regional Asheville is unlikely to support the typical bajillion afternoon flights, we wondered. Time passes. Hey, let's check that out. Sure enough, we're on the same flight! Let's get our seats together .... oh wait, never mind, we our already picked seats (Eric, 1A - me, 1B) are next to each other. Wow. Sad. Even sadder? The lack of enough curiosity to check each time we wondered.

This is extremely rare though. Keep in mind that even when travel internationally, it is a rarity that we're flying together. He'll be going to a client and I'll come later, or he'll have to leave earlier, or it simply doesn't work out. We are super excited about this silly 1.5 hours together on the same plane. We are giggling like school children at the airport, and everybody looks at us and goes "awwww". We plan carefully our conversation. What should we talk about? Work? Career? Family? This is heavy stuff. We only have 1.5 hours and we need to create an agenda. Oh! Holiday time. Let's focus on our next vacation. OK. Got it. Let's go get a drink now. We'll start talking about vacations on takeoff.

Takeoff.

So, where do we want to go on vacation? Eric has two weeks left ... I can do whatever I want with some planning. Mexico? Good grief no. I want to live. Caribbean. Bleh, sounds boring, but I'll consider the Fiji Islands. Why? ...that's so far!! Back to Europe? The first thing that both of us think about is the travel to get there and then lots of walking. Oh, how about Alaska? No! I'm doing that with my drive up there already next summer. Ohh.....I've always wanted to go down to Patagonia....let's do that. Um, I'll be in Rio waiting, you enjoy sitting on a glacier. I'm insulted. Glaciers rock. How about Thailand. I'm told all there is to do is to eat, sit on beaches, or do a sex tour. Eric seems a little motivated about the sex tour; I glare at him and announce sitting on beaches boring. Thailand is booted. 

In fact, as we tore apart the world in the first 30 minutes, I realised something; we were seriously considered massively beautiful areas of the globe, and we went "meh" on all of them. That seemed to be a strong indicator that our biggest issue was that we did not want to get on yet another plane. Or drive yet another long trip .... not soon at least. After all, I still have New Orleans, Colorado, and Arizona to visit through November 9 already. Eric has a much longer list. Perhaps we're looking at this the wrong way.

Why don't we take a good chunk of your holiday time and tackle some serious projects in the house that we'll never do unless we hire it out or ... take significant time off?

It's weird how fast that resonated. While the next 30 minutes was spent selecting and maximising the efficiency of which projects we'll handle, it has been decided.

10 days off over the Thanksgiving period completed dedicated to serious project work (wine room, under the porch room, the creek bank) is our official expenditure of Eric's remaining holiday time (leaving some time for a couple long weekends. To maintain the spirit of things, we are planning on hitting a new popular restaurant in Asheville each night. 

Improvement + Exploration :)

A Day Off to Paint

When the local Arboretum offered a day-long course on watercolour journaling, I instantly wanted to do it. While the self-permission took considerably longer given the self torture of questions like "shouldn't I work on my dissertation", shouldn't I work on my business" and shouldn't I focus on the house", doing something that demonstrated zero end-game productivity still won. It was definitely worth my time as I learned a great deal about watercolour technique and how to develop my own style.

Elizabeth Ellison was a wonderful instructor; encouraging while guiding at the same time. She oversaw the rubbishing of my "bad" pre-mixed greens, and I gathered enough courage to create my own secondary colours. I must say, I preferred my own mixture. The sustaining messages of my life has been to only use clean colors by mixing only a couple of colours; avoiding the tempting muddiness that pre-mixed colours or many colours can produce. This was strongly emphasized again. And again. Which is good - being reminded prevents me from being lazy.

While the course was about creating a journal with supporting watercolours to provide imagery on what you're writing, the demand of the participants was mostly around painting technique, in which the instructor was very obliging. After I timidly poked about with the first flower (above), I knew that to gain value for myself, I needed to tackle the stuff that scared me to death. 

1. Green
2. Mountains
3. Trees

Her example was stunning, but I wasn't too displeased with my sad "copy" of her demonstration. For the first time in my short watercolouring lack of career, I was able to actually produce something that looked marginly like mountains. What was very pleasing was that I could see my errors and know how to correct them in the future.

This one probably is pretty scary, but trust me, it's a good tree. It's a freakingly good tree by my past standards. I have often heard the watercolouring adage that you start with light and add the dark. However, in my brain, there was an exception when it came to trees. So when she watched me do a non-photographed tree (very scary), she thankfully caught me little self-made exception and I started over. I was informed to stop being scared of dark colours and allow my branches to actually extend beyond the foliage. Oh. 

It was an awesome day. Learned so much. Dropped off at a lot of fear. Picked up a lot of desire for experimentation. Need to buy a watercolour book that I can treat as a journal for my travels. Very excited!

The Appreciation of the Philatelist Enthusiast, ie, ME.

When I was a little girl, I presumed that everybody collected stamps. Please note that collecting is not having some sheets of Mickey Mouse from The Maldives. Even as I grew older and collected the Officials from the 1800s, it did not seem unreasonable that postal history was a common hobby. As my collection grew with used and proof sets of each department, fancy and hand cancels of all varieties, and many unique covers (that's right, nod your head and take another sip of drink), While I held a certain reserve of pride to be considered a "serious" contending exhibitor with a  nice array of medals, there was still the assumption that there was a broad knowledge, even if people did not choose to read up on rare cancels at the age of 13. OK, maybe I was a /little/ odd. 

Time passed and while I realised that my exposure to stamps was a bit stronger than the Average Joe, there was something a little surreal about going into the Smithsonian's Postal History Museum and easily explaining nearly all the exhibits with a rather extensive history. You may not be able to see it well, but when I actually saw the Kicking Mule stamper on exhibit, I gasped loudly, dropped my bag and started an anxious process of getting the perfect photo with a mere iPhone. I was initially unaware of others around me, but did slightly become conscientious with my little scene. This may not be the best time to expose deeper nerdiness by owning a rather old book that expounds on the history of the Kicking Mule cancel (Yes, I'm capitalising Kicking Mule). While I have never been interested in the Crown Jewels, there may have been minor consideration on how to nick the stamper.  

When I got to the stamp exhibit room, I nearly passed out when I saw the hand cancel exhibit. Having owned every single type of cancel on exhibit plus more, I felt a little smug. There was a slow realisation that my stuff WAS cool! It's in the Smithsonian after all. The video below will help you share in my rapt excitement and recognition. 

I think the moment of true smugness really hit me when I saw, under glass, the book in the photo. All I could think was, "but that's at home on my shelf." Mostly because it is. It took several seconds for me to realise that it wasn't my book, but apparently it was cool enough for the same edition to be presented here at the Postal History Museum.

Clearly I was far cooler as a teenager than I possibly had previously realised.

Some sarcasm applied.

Some relief definitely present.

An enlightenment of how much my mother knows about all kinds of stuff.