A Dip in the Road

The Dip in the Road

There’s always at least one, more often than not, several.

My road started back in June 2010 (if you don’t count the 53 years of journey before that), then it hit a 10 month road construction detour. No need to get into all of THAT!

This first part has been somewhat enjoyable. The flooded, green and gold scenery down, and the semi-wild acreage I’m staying on is perfect for writing—and I’ve done some. The family is a nice, wholesome brew of pagans, and the doll of a 4 month old is sooo entertaining. I was just biding my time to head over to Cherokee National Forest to check on that campground host volunteer position, or to float around until the summer cabin I was borrowing came open in Asheville, NC. Just a’hanging.

I had a couch waiting for me in Johnson City, TN found through Couchsurf.com (check it out—couches all over the world), but mobile phone difficulties made me plan to delay. Then I got another message from the Johnson City couch that said availability needed to go from a week to 2 nights only. Arriving there on Saturday would only give me one weekday to visit the ranger. What if he was off that day? Or on vacation? Then what? So I emailed the ranger instead of visiting live only to find out that the one position was taken already (what do you mean already? I applied in January?), and the other might not come open until mid-June of July 4^th. “Terrific,” I replied.

Still technical difficulties with the TN couch, so postponed departure until maybe (obviously), Sunday. No problem, just had to wait for the cabin to come open the first week in June, so I’d float a bit more—two weeks more—but so be it. Had no clue where I’d float, but ok, let’s keep going forward.

Then, wonderful Facebook—the 21^st century way of finding out all and any bad news. Mind you, I saw none of these bumps, hell, Chicago potholes in the road, so I went banging and head-bouncing over them. The friend whose friend had the cabin comments on my departure post, “You just getting that far? Did you get my text messages? (Of course not. I don’t have text messaging, AND YOU KNOW THAT!), I have to talk to you about Joan. I can’t get hold of her?” Now the vehicle (me) has hit a damn black hole in the road.

I scrambled to call only to find the technical difficulty is with my phone. I can’t be heard. The call goes through, I’m connected but no one hears me. Funny, isn’t it, how quickly old phobia’s arise? No one ever hears me. It’s like I’m invisible. Only now, it was absolutely accurate. I frantically emailed my son asking whyyyyyy, why can’t anyone hear me? “idk. did you try turning it off and back on?” Do I really need to answer that for you, or to explain what happened next? I didn’t think so. I make the call about the cabin and he’s having dinner with friends so he’ll have to call me later. “Terrific,” I replied.

That was all yesterday. One thing after another after another. I called a Chicago friend and whined a bit. I went back on couchsurf.com to arrange something. And then I took a long bath and went to bed. Because that’s the way I roll under stress. I’ll think about it tomorrow. I am indebted to Scarlett O’Hara!

It’s another day, the sun is shining, birds are singing, the baby is laughing and it is what it is. The TN couch called and she was able to hear me. We rescheduled for a tomorrow arrival. I have another couch in TN right after, and that will take me up through Thursday, the 26^th. I have another couch in Knoxville, TN on the 31^st. Hell, that’s only five days floating. It’ll be fine.

By the way, I called about the cabin and he was getting a shoe shine at the airport. He’ll call me back. I know. The road has smoothed out slightly now, but I’m braced for the dead-end at a gravel pit. In this moment, the hawk glides above (of course, the camera is inside) and the coyote peeks from behind a tree. Messenger and trickster. Oh boy!

A Strawberry and Dandelion Blossom Day

A Strawberry and Dandelion Blossom Day

A trip into Hopkinsville ended with Dandelion Blossom Jelly and Strawberry Salsa. The farmers market comes Wednesdays and Saturdays. I won’t be here Saturday, so I jumped at the opportunity to see the difference between a small town farmers market and the ones that come to Chicago.

It was a nice little area in the town square of Hopkinsville, KY. Not many vendors, probably because the weather has ruined most crops. What was there was in such good shape I imagine it was greenhouse produce. Fairly large strawberries, very large tomatoes, and preserves.  At the end of May, when land is soaked, a day of warm sunshine followed by a night of frost and several day of cool, cool, cool. I don’t think even cold-frames would produce that type of harvest so early in the season. Yeah, greenhouse. With the drastic effects of climate change the past few years, I don’t begrudge a farmer doing what he needs to do to support his family.

At the end of the tables was a nice older lady with a bowl of something red that she was passing out with the dipper type tortilla chips. As we got closer, we saw it was salsa. Since we hadn’t eaten yet, we all reached quickly for the salty flute cups filled and waiting for us. The salsa popped. Salty and sweet, with a kick. Then I saw the sign: Strawberry Salsa. I grabbed a few recipe cards, all the ingredients and while my friends made tortilla soup, I made the Strawberry Salsa. Later, we had fresh sourdough bread with Dandelion Blossom Jelly.

Unfortunately, there were no recipe cards for the Dandelion Blossom Jelly, but here’s the Strawberry Salsa made from fresh Kentucky Strawberries. Greenhouse or not, it was all delicious. Enjoy.

Strawberry Salsa

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 tablespoons white vinegar or white balsamic vinegar

½ teaspoon salt

2 cups coarsely chopped fresh strawberries

2 cups chopped cherry or grape tomatoes

½ cup cilantro

1. Whisk olive oil, vinegar, and salt in bowl.
2. Add strawberries, green onions, tomatoes, and cilantro. Toss to coat.
3. Cover and chill for 1 hour
4. Serve with tortilla or pita chips.

Yield: 7 ½ cups

Dream Road-Hopkinsville, Ky.

Finally, I'm continuing the journey I started June 2010.

After putting everything in storage, getting my TEFL certification, spending tons of money on the grandkids, realizing that overseas wasn't the original dream (which was why I wasn't feeling comfortable doing it), making the decision to head for that original (Smoky Mountains), and buying a pick-up, I headed south at 11am, Saturday, May 14, 2011. First stop, Hopkinsville, Ky.

Thank goodness the first leg of this journey was close so I could make all my mistakes in remembering how to travel.

I bought an atlas but forgot to consult it and compare against the MapQuest directions I printed. So rather than straight down Interstate 57 from Chicago to Interstate 24, right into Hopkinsville, they had me on Route 130 going through every small southern Illinois town. It took me further east than 57, but with speeds of 35 and 40mph in several areas. Scenic route would’ve been fine if it wasn’t raining, then down-pouring.

The next connection was supposed to be Interstate 64 East. Somehow I missed the East and ended up on 64 West. When I ran into 57, I kinda figured something was amiss. I THEN consulted the atlas. Needless to say, I had gone about 100 miles out of my way. I was okay though because it was my error and it was all still good. Additionally, I got to drive past the fields of sunshine twice. Fields and fields, acre after acre of Goldenrod. Wow.

Now, I’m looking for South 41 and was very careful to find it and make sure I was truly going south. Might have been okay if there was some kind of error here, because South 41 in Kentucky is actually a back road for several miles. So here I am, not having driven for 8 years, in the dark, in the rain, and I’m being honked at, passed with shakes of head and that old familiar finger-birdie at speeds of 60-70mph within speed limits of 40-45mph. THEN, MapQuest has me turn left into a trailer park and right onto a non-existent road. According to them, I was .10 of a mile away.

This is where I consulted the phone. I was pretty close—about 2 miles, and 2.5 hrs late. Hopkinsville, Ky. on Peace Road.








 

2011 Rambling Decisions

So I’ve decided to go public with the paralyzing fear (excuses) of the next step in my life. At 53, I’ve lived in the Midwest, primarily Chicago, IL all of my life. My kids are grown with lives of their own, so I decided (or am trying to anyway) to travel abroad or to move abroad, or to go or do something (with time and space to write). 

One of the biggest issues is finances. Over the years of raising kids, helping with grandchildren, losing jobs and making poor decisions (that again), my credit is terrible and no savings to speak of. OK, so yes, this is embarrassing to admit at my age, but so it is.

The next issue is that I am single—divorced and widowed. I’ve never really been afraid of doing or going by myself—until now that I must. 

One of the plans to address the financial issue was to get TEFL certified so I could teach English abroad and get paid to travel. In a round-about way, it also addressed the alone issue since most schools overseas have a community of English teachers from America. Still, the traveling and settling and beginning would all be done alone. Not to mention that once I get wherever I’m going, I will be the oldest within that community of teachers—alone again.

Then, there are restrictions, both personal and business, that need considering. Certain countries, such as Japan, won’t take me at my age and others would prefer younger. By preferring, meaning I won’t get the job in those countries either. Additionally, there is the global economic crisis which has caused some countries to pull inward. In Europe, the schools require an EU passport and most want an EU work visa before even offering the position. 

My personal restriction is on climate—I cannot (at this time in my life, it might change as I get even older) deal with heat and humidity. That leaves out most of the South American countries as well as some Asian. Moreover, some of the countries where things ‘might’ be acceptable all around are in turmoil and not safe (or as safe as a typical American would like).

OK, so getting a job teaching abroad is not going well. Switch rails. Retiring to another country is happening a lot lately and there are expat communities in most any country you can think of—Italy, Germany, Serbia, France, and South America. Once again, Europe is tough with visa’s, especially if you don’t have thousands or millions of dollars to contribute to their economy. Panama and Costa Rica are by far the best choices to retire. They will give you a pensionista visa as long as you have a monthly income of $1000. Cost of living in both of these areas is extremely low, and within the expat communities there is talk of rentals at $200 per month in the less touristy, rural towns. 

That became the new focus and I made some contacts in Costa Rica where I could stay while I looked for a home. Think of retiring in paradise. Sunshine and blue waters and a slow, slow pace with fairly decent health care. Alone. I would travel, meet these contacts, set up a home and make contacts to tutor English, and live alone. 

So there you have the traveling scenario. Let’s move on to the state side scenarios. 

I’ve been staying in my daughter’s basement for the last 8 months to save $$ for all these scenarios. Occasionally, I travel into Chicago for an event or two and stay on a friends' sofa, or a roommates' bed. Sometimes, I friend will be going out of town and I stay in their place. Next week, I will be house and dig sitting for two pit bulls. While 53 is not old, I can tell you that this nomad existence has been draining. When I was younger I thought it would be wonderful to retire to a camper and travel the states. I have a friend whose parents are doing it and they love it—the key word being ‘they’. I went ahead and applied for some volunteer positions with the Dept. of the Interior in national parks and have not received any replies (probably because of that credit history mentioned before). Additionally, I’m really not feeling the sleeping in a camper bed—not after sleeping in a different bed almost every night for 8 months. 

The last scenario and the picture I’ve had of retirement for the past 20 years, is to buy a truck, head to western NC or eastern TN, find a small place on a lake or river by the mountains and just relax. Plant a garden, have a cow and a few chickens, do some hunting and fishing, and write. Bring the grandchildren for summers and maybe get a horse or two along the way. This feels like the best fit. This doesn’t excite me but the idea makes me happy and contented. The only thing wrong with this scenario (in my mind) is that it isn’t big and bold enough. There’s no “Look at what I did,” no, “Wow, I envy you,” no “That’s my mom (or my Nana).” 

So there you have it, whatever it is. There is still no decision. I go round and round and hope that sooner or later a decision will slap my in the face.

The Nurturing of Doing Nothing

Wu wei: Do Nothing. ~ Lao Tzu

That is what I've been doing lately. One could debate that it is what I've been doing for a very long time-possibly a lifetime. The difficulty is in accepting that this is not only ok, but good.

So here is what I HAVE been doing:

On a lovely library excursion where I was forced to cut it from hours to minutes, I grabbed People of the Longhouse off the "New Fiction" shelf. It was an exciting find. Seems that anthropologists Kathleen and Michael Gear have been writing tons of novels based on the anthropological findings of prehistoric America. This one was mesmerizing, and off I went to find the next one in the series. Of course, it hasn't been released yet, so I went on to another in another series.

I chose People of the Lakes because I'm from one of the areas noted--the midwest and the Great Lakes. These are not short, beach reading books. These are solid, historical fiction of war, romance, travel, and, did I mention, history.

So, while I took notes, and had the best intentions and immense emotions, I did not write about Egypt, or labor rallies in Wisconsin, or the mayoral race in Chicago. I cuddled with pillows and read. I lounged under bubbles and read. I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner in mostly solitude--and read.

On February 27th, I traveled from Kenosha to Chicago for a 3-day trip and got lost in North Park Nature Center with all my luggage.

*North Park Nature Center Chicago, picture from DJM75s Flick acct.

This is what came of that trip:

Feb. 27, 2011

North Park Nature Center, 11:30am—lost in a familiar place. How often does that happen to you? Me? Quite frequently of late. But it’s ok this time. Warm sunbeams and the aroma of burning wood ride on a crisp gentle wind. Deer strolling among geese resting on their return northward journey. No better place to found, unless beside the burning wood. If only I could stash the 20lbs of baggage to enjoy it all unencumbered. 

It’s been too long away from Mother Earth. Too long prisoner in my mind, running in circles and bouncing off the padded cerebral walls. Here, it is all so simple. This is what I need. Again, I’m reminded of my heart’s desire. Again. Can I not get it right?

Somewhere out there is a circle of writers, imagining and communing around the flames. Spirit has set me here, alone at a damp picnic table with just enough dry spots beneath the bare branches inside natures’ song to scratch out his message. So easy to be content with where you are placed when all your brothers and sisters around are content.

I want my own home again. 

 

Spirit decided it was time and the writers found me. Luggage stashed, the icy crunch beneath our boots, we went on to observe a heart pulsing short black fur, curled inside the hollow of a bark-stripped tree. It allowed us to gather, stand, point and stare as though it were something exotic, rather than a probable snoozing raccoon. How many times has it suffered through 2-leggeds watching it nap?

The journey continued round the path, alongside waving cattails immersed in frozen marsh. With calm acceptance of their naked vulnerability, the Standing People are confident that lushness will surround them soon and buds will perk excitedly. 

All in due time my pretty, all in due time. 

The whirling wheel inside my head has momentarily ceased; there is no nourishment here for its spinning madness.  

*I'll post my own pics soon. 

Now, I'm in the city again for a 4-day trip and am really not doing much more than the same. Wu Wei. And thoroughly enjoying it. I picked up a few more books, of course. Gear's first book: People of the Wolf.

And then I found a few books to help me with my novel research that were written by a fellow Chicagoan, Allison Amend: Stations West. Things That Pass for Love will actually serve as samples of debut books--another thing I've been researching.

I have been doing 'some' writing and you can find it at dk's right to write blog.

So there, that's what I've been doing while I haven't been blog posting. Hopefully, I'll be forgiven. If not, I am fine with Wu wei and hope you are as well.