Friday, January 20, 2023

Las Cruces, New Mexico: Scenes from the Farmers and Crafts Market

Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market with the Organ Mountains backdrop. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.
Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market with the Organ Mountains backdrop. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

During my current sojourn in Las Cruces, I go downtown on Saturdays to the Farmers and Craft Market. I go for the kettle corn, mainly. It's not often I'm living in a place where I can get it in the wild, regularly. 

Las Cruces seems to have three kettle corn drug dealers. There's Uncle Banjo, Southwest, and a third one, as yet unseen and untried by me. 

My preference is Southwest Kettle Corn. I can taste all of the fat, crunch, salt, and sweet. Uncle Banjo's is too dry for my taste. And the folks at Southwest know how we are, "we" being persnickety partakers of the popcorn crack. As in: If I ask for more salt before I carry away my bag, I'm asked in return: "In layers or on the top"? And always, we users are asked: "Do you want your bag open or tied?" 

The market is long and large. 

On Christmas Eve, my eyes widened at the probable deliciousness of the mushrooms on offer. Oh, mushrooms, how I love thee.

Mushrooms and brilliant smile at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Mushrooms and brilliant smile at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

Mushrooms and brilliant smile at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Mushrooms and brilliant smile at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.


On another day, I bought a stash of bright artwork from Alyssa Trujillo. Along with mushrooms, I do fancy lizards. I'll send the work to worthy recipients. 

Artist Alyssa Trujillo at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.
Artist Alyssa Trujillo at Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

A slide show of the Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market, which includes photos from my first-ever visit in 2013: 

Las Cruces Farmers and Crafts Market


This and other markets

2010: Kansas City: Travels With Carol: Day 3: City Market, et al

2011: Color in Harar [Ethiopia], Day 4

2011: Last Day in Gonder [Ethiopia]: The Market, Gold, and God is Calling

2011: Rustavi, Caucasus Georgia: At the "Big" Market

2012: Istanbul: Larceny and Spice

2012: Alamogordo, New Mexico: Farmer's Market

2013: Las Cruces: The Not-So-Farmerish Farmers' Market

2013: Lafayette, Louisiana: Farmers' Market at the Oil Center, Winter

2016: El Paso: Downtown Farmers Market

2016: Antigua, Guatemala: Municipal market stories here and here and here

2016: Outside Antigua, Guatemala: The Sunday Blues

2018: Mexico City: New Housemates and the Saturday Market











Sunday, January 8, 2023

Las Cruces, New Mexico: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 8888: Caught Again?

 

Gaza. COVID art. October 2020. Source: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem
Gaza. COVID art. October 2020. Source: REUTERS/Mohammed Salem

"So sorry to have to send this text to you. This morning I tested positive for COVID. ..... " 

This from Diana, who came to El Paso with her husband, Pete, to volunteer at a migrant receiving shelter for a couple of weeks. We'd spent such a good time together on Sunday and Monday, with so much laughter.

Not a text I wanted to receive. Especially since I've been visiting daily with Drake's dad, Beck, who is physically vulnerable on at least three levels. 

It doesn't matter that:

  • I'm pretty careful with my mask protocols; or
  • I have abstained from trips to zydeco dancing venues, feeling as holy (and deprived) as a virgin saving herself for marriage; or
  • I was pretty confident about my friends' practices, and that of the place where my friends volunteered in El Paso for the previous two weeks; or
  • I've had one, two, and three vaccination doses in 2021, plus the first bivalent booster in October 2022; or 
  • Had one bout with COVID in early 2022; or 
  • I successfully avoided contracting COVID when my Jefferson City hostess came down with it.

And it sure doesn't matter that I had this on my list of things to do: Get the second bivalent dose. 

I last saw my friends on Monday afternoon. Diana's test was positive on Wednesday morning. I waited until Thursday afternoon to take my own rapid test to allow time for a sufficient quantity of viruses to accrue. The little fuckers. 

My Thursday afternoon test result: Negative. 

My Friday afternoon test result: Negative.

And finally, my Saturday morning test result: Negative! Hallelujah! 


My third and final negative test result. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.
My third and final negative test result. January 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.


Wednesday, January 4, 2023

Life Hacks From the Road: The Three Gs


Desert View, Grand Canyon. November 2008. Credit: Mzuriana.
Desert View, Grand Canyon. November 2008. Credit: Mzuriana.

I began this post back in May 2019. It's been gestating in the draft womb ever since. Seeing as how we're in 2023's neonatal days, it's time to birth this baby.

During the course of a conversation, one of my El Paso friends, "Drake," referenced the three Gs. The three Gs aren't of Drake's conception; they are Dan Savage's.

Oh, Dan Savage. I hadn't read any of his columns in years, and I hadn't heard of his three Gs. Dan Savage is the author of the column called Savage Love, from which he dispenses relationship and sex advice.

Mr. Savage's three Gs reside in a sexual context, but as soon as Drake described them to me, I saw their useful application to life generally.

The Three Gs
  • Good
  • Giving
  • Game

In short (from a Psychology Today article):
GGG stands for 'good, giving, and game.’ Think 'good in bed,' 'giving of equal time and equal pleasure,' and 'game for anything—within reason.'"

For more details, here you can listen to Dan Savage explain below:




But, as I noted, I can try to apply the Gs in everyday milieus.


Desert View, Grand Canyon. November 2008. Credit: Mzuriana.
Desert View, Grand Canyon. November 2008. Credit: Mzuriana.




Good

Skill. To be good at something and to practice that skill.

For example, Drake is skilled at noticing.

Early on in our friendship, I saw that he noticed things I liked, and he noticed things I didn't like.

Then, for my pleasure, he acted on what he noticed.

I'm not talking big things. I'm talking small things.

Like noticing that I prefer taking a more scenic route from point A to point B instead of a more direct route. When we were out and about, he'd ask if I'd prefer walking an alternative route over the most time-efficient route - and being amenable to taking the longer way.

Like noticing that I usually opt for crunchy vegetable snacks. Consequently, he thoughtfully included a supply of carrots in a day pack for a joint excursion, in addition to his preferred snacks of chips and cookies.

I have since tried to build my own noticing-to-acting skill so that I can add some Good into a relationship, whether it be friend, family, romantic interest, neighbor, or colleague.


Giving

I'm not much of a hugger in most situations, and I used to groan inwardly when I encountered the friends who I labeled as eye-rollingly touchy-feely, gearing myself up for the inevitable greeting hug. But one day I realized that:

  1. Hugs do not actually cause me any harm; and
  2. Huggers derive sustenance from hugs, both giving and receiving; so
  3. How about if I unreservedly give and receive said hugs?


Game

"I only listen to classical music."
"I don't like your music."

It can be a bit of a bummer when a friend or relative rejects something out of hand that you like or something you want to try. 

I'm not just thinking of exotica, such as trying out a food new to you or me, like brains or crunchy crickets

And I'm not talking about things that risk one's physical or mental well-being, such as jumping out of a plane.

We all have biases for and against places and activities, which are evident with the words never, always, and only.

I used to have a bias against ocean cruises. But over time, my antipathy has become less strident: If a person in my circle really wants to go on a cruise, and my participation would be an investment in our relationship, and it's a cruise I can afford financially, and the opportunity costs aren't too high (i.e. if I do the cruise, I'd have to pass up something I value significantly more or something that won't be available later) ... then why not? I'm game. Maybe I'll be delighted! And if not delighted for myself, maybe I'll be delighted at the pleasure I see in my travel companion.

Being game doesn't arm us for future chess moves. I laughed the other day remembering Jewish-née-Episcopalian Charlotte's outcry to future husband Harry: "I gave up Christ for you!"


Monday, January 2, 2023

10 Years Ago: Chimps in Alamogordo, New Mexico

As I draft this in 2023, I am again in Alamogordo's sphere, over on the other side of the Organ Mountains, which I have the deep pleasure of seeing every day.

In 2015, I was able to visit Chimp Haven in Louisiana. It's open to the public only twice a year.

Alas, as of January 2021 ("Federal lawsuit filed over chimps still held at Holloman Air Force Base"), 36 chimps from the Holloman Air Force Base community still lived at the Holloman Air Force Base because, according to official explanations, the remaining chimps are too infirm for travel to one of the sanctuaries in Louisiana or Florida.  The situation had not changed in March 2022, although the number of chimps at the air force base had decreased to 35, due to the death of one inhabitant.  

The original post of UPDATE: Chimps in Alamogordo, New Mexico, is here.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

UPDATE: Chimps in Alamogordo, New Mexico




Chimpanzee. Credit: Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine.
Credit: Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine



History

Back here, I related the history of chimpanzees in Alamogordo.


A new life for the Alamogordo chimps!


Today brings important news for the 169 remaining chimps at the Alamogordo Primate Facility on Holloman Air Force Base.

In short --> some? most? all? -- of these chimps will be retired to Chimp Haven in Louisiana.

Here is the final report from the Working Group on the Use of Chimpanzees in NIH-Supported Research. There is a comment period before their recommendations can be finalized, but it would seem public opinion is in favor of retiring the chimps.

What a happy ending to a dismal history.  Kudos to Chimp Haven.


But what about ....? 

While I was researching the history of the Alamogordo chimps, I was dismayed to learn that Americans can breed and sell chimps as pets.

Insanity.  

Setting aside the horror stories of the dangers of adolescent and adult chimps, how does one rationalize taking a baby chimp from its mother?

A baby chimp that has been taken from its mother suffers effects similar to that of a human infant being stolen from its mother.

Recent ads: 

Baby Chimpanzee For Sale

($500.00)

Very tamed, veterinary checked diaper and crate trained, this chimpanzee baby is ready for a loving homes . She is home raised and always around kids. She is a playmate for kids and adults and gets along with other pets. She is going to come with all papers, toys, sample foods and a very large crate . If interested and ready to give this girl the kind of home we are looking for, get back to us for more information with your name and mobile number to ease communication...


$800, Cute Female baby Chimpanzee for sale

Posted: Wednesday, November 21, 2012 1:04 AM


Our Female baby chimpanzee is a house raised, diaper trained, leash trained , wears clothes and likes to lay around, watch TV and take snaps with you. Please contact for more information on this baby. she is vaccinated, vet checked, obedient, intelligent, acrobatic, very healthy and loves the company of children's and other pets. She will be coming along with all health papers, shots and cages too, So we are searching for any families that would take very good care of our baby Contact us via Email or Cell if interested.

Fast Facts
Adorable baby chimpanzees . they have all their health documents. They date with current vaccines. they are very charming, sociable, playful and very beautiful.Well tamed and hand raised.they just received their shots and have health documents issued by a qualified veterinarian, they are DNA and also tested negative on all possible diseases which could get them affected,they are also free from all genetic diseases as approved of,from their lab results, they have their papers of guarantee of health, and they will be coming with toys and very nutritive monkey food.They have a lot of games with the children and other pets such as birds, dogs and cats. We are always available for competent buyers, if you are interested in having these chimps.email 


Baby chimpanzee. Source: https://www.care2.com/
Baby chimpanzee. Source: Care2

                         

 

Sunday, January 1, 2023

2023 Word of the Year: FEAR: Looking Into the Abyss Without Falling In

 

Grand Canyon. September 2007. Credit: Mzuriana.
Grand Canyon. September 2007. Credit: Mzuriana.


OK, this is a surprise, eh? 

A word like FEAR?! On the very first day of the spankin' new year?! What a buzzkill!

Shouldn't it be something inspirational or aspirational like other years, such as:

Well, I'm thinking no. We are living in FEAR-ful times. I want to look at that. I want to look into the abyss of fear without falling in.

I've got FEAR in all caps because FEAR is an acronym for many things in the 12-step universe, such as:

  1. Fuck Everything and Run
  2. Fighting Ego Against Reality
  3. Frustration, Ego, Anxiety, Resentment 
  4. Frantic Effort to Appear Real
  5. Failure Expected And Received
  6. False Evidence Appearing Real
  7. False Expectations Appearing Real
  8. Feelings Every Addict Rejects
  9. Forgetting Everything's All Right
  10. Feelings Expressed Allow Relief
  11. Face Everything And Recover

I'm not sure I'll try and match a month to an acronym. 

Alligators are dangerous sign. New Iberia, Louisiana. March 2015. Credit: Mzuriana.
Alligators are dangerous sign. New Iberia, Louisiana. March 2015. Credit: Mzuriana.

Saturday, December 31, 2022

Travelutions (aka Travel Resolutions) for 2023

 

El Paso-Juárez Bus mural outside the El Paso History Museum, El Paso, Texas. November 2016. Photo credit: Mzuriana.
El Paso-Juárez Bus mural outside the El Paso History Museum, El Paso, Texas. November 2016. Photo credit: Mzuriana.

It's been a minute since I wrote up a travel resolutions post. 


For 2023, here's what other folks intend to aspire to will do

**crickets**

Yeah, I drew a blank, not for the wont of lists that exist, but for the wont of finding any lists that inspired me, amused me, or surprised me. Not because I'm so worldly, and certainly not that I'm world-weary. No, it's because the dozens of lists I viewed offered the bullets of low-hanging fruit that we've all seen before, like: go somewhere new, try solo travel, stayvacate, etc. Or it's because the target audience has far more money and disposable time than most of us do.

I'm gonna divide my own list into two parts: 

  1. Destination possibilities
  2. Travel practices or activities

My list of potential travel destinations for 2023

  • Trips to Vietnam, Romania, and Senegal (or thereabouts). Why these three? I have current or past students in the first two destinations, and because I've got a hankering to do that motor scooter thing that Phil in the Blank and a partner started up a few years back. Have I ever been on a motor scooter? Well, no. Maybe I'll take lessons somewhere first. That's on my list, too.
  • A one-to-three month stay in Toronto, renting a friend's apartment in the city while she travels elsewhere. The only challenge is that in her perfect world, we'd do this during the winter, which she would like to escape. In my perfect world, fuck no, it's too cold! So we'll see how that all works out. 
  • A visit somewhere with my youngest descendant, Jet
  • A one-week visit to another Big City with my descendant, Tab (current contenders: Chicago, Las Vegas, Toronto), as a follow-on to a trip we took to NYC in September 2022
  • A few weeks in Houston, with a gluttonous consumption of zydeco music and dance
  • Several consecutive months of camping
  • I'd still like to do another road trip to Alaska (which I did with daughter Kit a long time ago), but that might be better for 2024, when Jet has a driver's license.

My 2023 list of travel practices or activities

  1. For the past decade, my rootlessness followed a model of one-year temporary residencies in different locations. With 2023, I am thinking to change this to quarterly moves, and even monthly moves, depending on the seasons and destinations. My tentative plan all along has been to settle in to a permanent home base in mid-2025, so accelerating my movement pattern for these next two and a half years feels attractive. 
  2. Embark on and complete a list of creative projects that incorporate writing, family letters, and photographs. This practice relates to travel in that I will need to consciously choose locations and spaces that are conducive to peaceful blocks of time to invest in these projects. 
  3. OK, so here's a practice that didn't hit my rootless radar until very recently: Establish medical relationships in convenient locations for effective continuity of care, record keeping, and oversight for:

  • Routine screenings
  • Management of noncritical conditions that require some oversight, or just those things that one needs to keep an eye on because of potential development into something that requires intervention
  • In the event something serious develops, there's already a relationship with a health care provider I trust and who knows me

Past travelutions posts


Monday, December 26, 2022

Las Cruces, New Mexico: Christmas Day

 

A Christmas Day fire in the fireplace via youtube. December 2022.
A Christmas Day fire in the fireplace via youtube. December 2022.

In the early morning, while my brewing coffee dripped into the carafe, I opened the blinds in the kitchen to welcome the daylight and to access the view of the desert ridge next to the house. I thought of my mother, who opened her wooden window shutters every morning to summon the day into her house. From her, perhaps, I learned that, to the extent we are able, we create the environment we wish to have around us. 

I connected with long-distance family and friends, exchanging Christmas greetings, via phone calls, texts, or emails.

I went on a walk. Like that of some birds and mammals, my attention got caught by brightly colored or shiny things, both natural and human-made. 

Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Colorful string. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Colorful string. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

  

Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Colorful misshapen thing. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Colorful misshapen thing. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Bright purple thing. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Christmas Day walk in Las Cruces neighborhood. Bright purple thing. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.


And I even saw an addition to the carcass collection. A bird pellet.

Bird pellet on Christmas Day walk. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Bird pellet on Christmas Day walk. December 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.


Here is a slide show that includes this and other walks in my occasional Las Cruces neighborhood. 

Las Cruces Walks in the Neighborhood


I felt cozy and soothed by way of a Youtube crackling fire in a hearth on my host's big screen TV. 

 

I listened to Handel's Messiah, with its soaring, endorphin-producing sounds of blended voices and instruments. Doing this is, in part, a memorial to my father, a complicated man, who liked to listen to Messiah at Christmas. 

 

In the evening, I opened a mini-box of cabernet. 


A good Christmas. 


Some Christmases past

2021: Mobile, Alabama

2016: El Paso, Texas 

2013: Lafayette, Louisiana 

2013: Rootless: On Doing Holidays Solo

2012: Santa Fe, New Mexico

 


Friday, December 2, 2022

10 Years Ago: Where I Will Not Be Living Next Year

I have successfully continued to not live there in the past 10 years, and I will continue to not live there in the future. Same reason. 


Thursday, December 20, 2012

Where I Will Not Be Living Next Year

Cultural Center, Gallup, New Mexico


Not long ago, I had the thought that if I were to spend a second year in New Mexico, I might spend it on the western side of New Mexico, such as in Grants, Gallup, or Farmington.

Now that I've visited Grants and Gallup in December, I know that while both have a number of qualities to commend them, I'll not be living in either place (or Farmington). 

Too bloody cold.

Thursday, December 1, 2022

Back on the Road: December 2022

2022.1203 Sculpture Hill exhibits Augusta Kansas 4
Highway 54, Augusta Hill, Kansas, Sculpture Hill. Photo credit: Mzuriana.

 

 

I'm back on the road. 

En route to Las Cruces, New Mexico. 

Taking the old familiar road from Jefferson City, Missouri - Highway 54, for the kick of taking it almost all the way to Las Cruces. It pleases me. 

But I might diverge and take 60, which I've also done in the past. Also a pleasing route. 

First night, I only moved my map point about 50 miles, by design, from Jefferson City to Osage Beach. 

The Red Roof Inn room I'm in is fine. The motel chain has upped its game since my experience of it in  Alabama. 

In-room coffee, fridge, and microwave now seem standard. 

I have a bag of free library cast-offs that I'll dig into. The current read is Hush, by Eishes Chagal. 

Maybe I'll read a book a day in lieu of screen time. 

 

 

Thursday, November 10, 2022

Jefferson City, Missouri: A Bittersweet Sweet

 

My Favorite Day sugar. Jefferson City, Missouri. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
My Favorite Day sugar. Jefferson City, Missouri. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.


At a big box store yesterday, I saw these slender bottles of sanding sugar. 

Favorite Day

At which I smiled, albeit with sadness. 

Because the brand name transported me to another Favorite Day, that of former colleague, Jessica Terrell, a self-described "vagabond for beauty."

 

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Voluntary simplicity


I began this post thinking to share an interesting archive article from O magazine, sent to me by friend Terry,  called  Back to Basics: Living With Voluntary Simplicity. There was fodder in there for a discussion about the "business" of simplicity. I imagine I'll get to that another day. 

This is because, in thinking of voluntary simplicity, I remembered Jessica Terrell.

When she served as the trails coordinator for the state of Missouri, Jessica and I worked together on a couple of projects. She modeled voluntary simplicity.


Jessica Terrell
Jessica Terrell
 


You only meet a handful of people like Jessica in your lifetime. She had a positive impact on others simply by walking her talk of living lightly on the earth while embracing its beauty. Good sense of humor. Beautiful smile. Gentle air. Excellent writer. Adventurous. Hard worker. She liked to take at least one trip a year with her mother, who lives in Ohio. She farmed a plot in our town's community garden across the river.

Jessica wanted to live small materially, but big in other ways. (She won a grueling multiple-week, motorcycling competition shortly after moving west.) It was Jessica who introduced me to the world of Tiny Houses. Living in a tiny house was one of her goals.

Once, I met Jessica at another colleague's house for a meeting. Jessica was emptying some items out of her car to give to our colleague. I asked about it, and Jessica replied that she'd been in the process of giving away many of her things. To live smaller. She offered me her one-person tent, which I took (and only recently passed along to Brother4.)

One of Jessica's professional goals was to move from Missouri to New Mexico or Arizona, and work in trails there. When she shared this with me, she calculated it would be five or more years before an opening and her professional "cred" would align to make this happen. It turns out that both occurred soon after, and Jessica moved from Missouri to Santa Fe in 2006.

You'll have noticed that I refer to Jessica in the past tense. This is because she died in a collision with a tractor-trailer on a wintry day in 2008. She was only 30.

Jessica was on her way to another town where she would give a workshop related to trails. Earlier that day, in her office, she talked enthusiastically with a co-worker about a book of essays she was reading, written by Barbara Kingsolver.

Another person who knew Jessica told me she called herself a "vagabond for beauty."

In 2002, Jessica participated in the Public Lands Journey. I'd read Jessica's fine journal entries before, but after she died, I revisited them, and this one stuck out for me. It embodies simplicity.


My Favorite Day

… I know that when I return home, friends, and family will be asking “So what was your absolute favorite place on the whole trek?”

What will I tell them? I will start out by saying that every day inevitably seemed better than the last. “Seemed” is the key word, you must realize.

If I were to mix up all the days of the trek and do it all over again, each new day would never cease to “seem” better than the one before it!

So I have come to the conclusion that TODAY will always be my favorite.

The dawn of each new day has and will continue to reveal to me things that have never before occurred, and never will occur again, whether it be a beautiful cloud formation over a particular mountain, the call of elk on a cool morning in a national forest, or even the way rocks glitter in the brightness of the afternoon sun.


1977-2008


 

Wednesday, November 9, 2022

Jefferson City, Missouri: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 8888: Brown Paper Bags and a Jug o' Green Sanitizer

 

Brown paper bags with N95 masks inside. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Brown paper bags with N95 masks inside. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 Over time, since the onset of the pandemic in 2020 (presumably), I've retired various of my cloth masks as they've shrunk in the dryer (whoops) or otherwise just seemed too tired to carry on. Or better said, put on. 

Awhile back, when they were plentifully-available at the Big Box pharmacies, I collected a supply of the government-subsidized N95 masks. But I didn't use these unless I had to because they:

  1. Are kind of uncomfortable;
  2. Are awkward to don and to take off;
  3. Mess with my hair in the back of my head; and
  4. Do not lend themselves to attachment to and hanging from a lanyard, which I prefer to use at times when I don't need the mask on, such as when I'm outdoors or going to a restaurant (I don't want to place my mask on a restaurant table and I don't want to scrunch it up into a pocket or purse - these kind of defeat the purpose of having a mask to begin with, given the dubious safety of surfaces it would touch)

When my hostess came down with COVID, the cloth masks weren't going to cut it. I pulled out my supply of N95 masks to wear inside the house. 

I had a limited supply, so I looked up how to reuse them, which is where the brown paper bags come in. 

The N95 bags are reusable, but the best practice is to:

  • Drop the used mask into a brown paper bag;
  • Close the bag; and
  • Let the bag sit for a week. 

I like this North Dakota guide to healthcare staff because of its use of both "don" AND "doff." To don a mask feels fairly contemporary, but to doff one's mask is charmingly anachronistic, to wit: 

  • The mask can be placed on a clean paper towel or in a breathable container [e.g. a brown paper bag] when removed for breaks/eating.
  • Best storage for reuse during a shift would be a labeled breathable container to prevent contamination when redonning and doffing.
  • Continue to practice social distancing.
  • Hand hygiene should be done after doffing and before donning and again after donning.

I also bought a giant bottle of green sanitizer and a demi of disinfecting wipes. 

Giant green bottle of sanitizer. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Giant green bottle of sanitizer. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

Medium bottle of sanitizer and a demi of disinfecting wipes. Credit: Mzuriana.
Medium bottle of sanitizer and a demi of disinfecting wipes. Credit: Mzuriana.

While none of these would protect me from zombies or vampires, they were my weapons of choice against my hostess' COVID. 

They seemed to have been successful. We're both in the clear now.

Tuesday, November 8, 2022

Jefferson City, Missouri: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 8888: The Seduction of Denial

 

Preface

I am a mistress of denial. I have skills in denial. I excel at denial.

So my comments below - about what appears to me as denial - is not about being judgy or belittling - and in no way - not even a microscopic bit - disdain. It is simply about who we often are as humans. 


The Seduction, Chapter 1

Both my hostess and I took trips over a long weekend. I went to Livingston, Texas. My hostess went to Kansas City. 

One of us came back with COVID. 

My hostess knew that her sore throat and general not-up-to-par-ness pointed to a common cold. She knew it.   

Nevertheless, I pulled out one of my government-used vanilla and orange sherbet test packets so she could take a test. 

Free rapid COVID tests from US government. March 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Free rapid COVID tests from US government. March 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

So she did. And here's the power of denial. The C line was, of course, clearly evident. That's the control line. The T line (for test result) was faint. 

Because it was faint, much fainter than the control line under the C, my hostess felt that the test was likely negative. Because it couldn't be positive. Because she knew she just had a Before Times cold. 

Unfortunately, if you can see the T line, no matter how faint, that's a positive result. But don't take my word for it: 

"After 15 minutes, you’ll look for two things:

A line under the “C,” which is the control. 'It’s imperative that you get a line under the “C.” It lets you know that the test is working. If there’s no line under “C,” you’ll need to re-test,' Alvarado explained.

"If the area under the “T,” or test section, has no line at all, that means it’s negative for COVID-19. If there’s a line under the “T,” then the test is positive for COVID. 'It doesn’t matter how faint or how bright the line under the “T” is, if it’s there, it’s a positive test for COVID,' Alvarado said. [Underline added by me.]

 

Faint line on COVID test card - positive. Credit: SF Gate via Getty Images
Faint line on COVID test card - positive. Credit: SF Gate via Getty Images
 

My hostess' response: "Well, shit. .... Shit." This from a person who rarely swears.  

 

A sidebar on the CDC

You may wonder - and you should wonder - why I don't have a link to the CDC's guide on the at-home rapid test results info. I wanted to. And I looked for the information. But the information is for shit. 

The accompanying text for this video, for example, says it tells you how to interpret the result, but it does not. It slides right over to: "If you have a positive result ..." 

And this video, which the CDC linked to for my orange sherbet and vanilla test, which purported to have usage information by the manufacturer, was .... I don't know what the hell it was. But it didn't tell me how to interpret any results. Hell, it didn't even tell me how to conduct the test. 

Another test that the CDC links to, for a different manufacturer, was a link to an error page. 

Finally, in the third link, to the Abbot BiNox Now test kit link, I found actual instructions. Including this: "Even a FAINT line next to SAMPLE is a positive result." The video even included a magnifying glass image to reinforce the need to look closely at the test result.

I used to have great confidence in and respect for our country's Center for Disease Control. Both of these evaporated when Trump bullied and politicized both the agency and the pandemic itself. 

I only just today pulled up this 2020 Pro Publica article on same: Inside the Fall of the CDC. I make this point about the timing because I had come to my own conclusion about the CDC's loss of legitimacy as I watched Trump's rhetoric against the CDC and his appointments unfold in 2020. 

A dismal excerpt from the Pro Publica article:

"When the next history of the CDC is written, 2020 will emerge as perhaps the darkest chapter in its 74 years, rivaled only by its involvement in the infamous Tuskegee experiment, in which federal doctors withheld medicine from poor Black men with syphilis, then tracked their descent into blindness, insanity and death."

Note: The article is not just a thrashing of Trump and his subjects - it's about vulnerabilities within the CDC that already existed, and which exacerbated the failure to fulfill its mission to protect the public health of the United States. 

Another astounding excerpt from the Pro Publica report: 

"At a time when the pandemic had killed nearly 130,000 Americans, McGowan spent an hour and a half on the phone with the HHS general counsel and other senior officials to figure out how to make an exception for a dog. All the while, he told colleagues, his mind kept returning to the fact that the same administration was using the CDC’s quarantine power to deport thousands of children at the border with Mexico."

 

 The Seduction, Chapter 2

A few days ago, a New Mexico friend fell sick. When I say he "fell sick," I mean that he felt sick. Felt rather miserable, in fact. 

He, too, took an at-home rapid test. He told me the result was questionable. I asked why he called it questionable. He said "because the test result line is so faint." 

He'd scheduled a PCR for the following Monday. 

I explained, well, there's nothing questionable about your test result. Doesn't matter how faint the result line is: You're positive. 

I explained this wasn't just my opinion - it's in the test packet instructions. 

Just as it was for my hostess, who had to reorganize a number of commitments after her diagnosis, this was a real bummer for my New Mexico friend (in addition to having COVID, that is) because he'd been set to serve as an election worker on Tuesday, the 8th. 

On Monday, he took the PCR. Positivity confirmed.  


The Seduction, Chapter 3

Now to me. 

I was squarely negative when I took the at-home rapid test two days after my hostess' return from her long weekend trip and her positive test result. (It didn't seem to make any sense for me to take it before I'd even been exposed for any length of time, hence the two-day delay.)

In the meantime, I was hyper-vigilant about distancing, sanitizing, masking, and staying in different parts of her house. 

I re-took the test on the evening of the 9th day after her return from Kansas City. 

I had a thought process for waiting for the nine days (and I'm actually drafting this before I've taken the test), which was that: 

  • If I've been infected, it will surely show up in the test result after so many days of exposure; and
  • If I've not been infected after so many days of exposure, I am probably OK. Because in theory (my theory), each day that passed she was closer to end-of-quarantine time.

Magical thinking? Denial? Could be! I'm gifted at that! 

 

The result:

Negative!

Oh, and my hostess took her test again this evening also - negative. Huzzahs all around. 

Nevertheless, I'll take another test in two days just to ensure there haven't been any viruses sneaking about incognito in more recent days.

 

Negative COVID test result. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Negative COVID test result. November 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.


Wednesday, November 2, 2022

10 Years Ago: "Because the Dead Won't Wait"

 

 

Highway 380 outside Carrizozo, New Mexico. October 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.
Highway 380 outside Carrizozo, New Mexico. October 2012. Credit: Mzuriana.

Ten years ago I was in Alamogordo, New Mexico, the first of my slomadic year-in-residences after an illuminating moment on a marshrutka en route from Rustavi to Tbilisi, where the sudden thought came to me: "If I want, I can travel the world one year at a time."

In Alamogordo, I encountered the paradox of temporary permanence. Original post here, and the copy below. 

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Paradox of Temporary Permanence


I have the luxury of locating myself in a travel destination - New Mexico - for one year.

A year is a roomy expanse of time to explore the state in the breadth and depth I wish. No hours hunkered over a one- or two-week itinerary, weighing the must-see value of too many sightseeing candidates against too little time and money.

With a year, I can see all that I want to see.

But I find this isn't entirely true. While the geographic locations of interest remain constant, their seasonality does not.

To wit: fall foliage. Or signature annual events, like the upcoming Day of the Dead and the Festival of the Cranes.  

Credit: Calavera Coalition



I arrived in New Mexico toward the end of September. With my focus on finding a place to live and settling in, before I knew it, I was at the end of October.

In Alamogordo, in the high desert, there's no fall foliage to speak of (at least thus far in the beginning of November), so I've got to go out in search of it.

I can't wave away the sightseeing deadline with a casual, "Oh, I'll catch it next year." I don't know where I'll be next year.

So there's a sense of urgency in some things.

Thus, where will I be this weekend? At Mesilla's Dia de los Muertos. Because the dead won't wait.


 

Sunday, October 30, 2022

Livingston Road Trip 2022: Second Leg Back to Missouri: The Bad, the Good, and the Grind

 

Rain and slow gas at the Flying J in Texarkana, off I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Rain and slow gas at the Flying J in Texarkana, off I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

The Bad

It appears that it was my destiny to suffer a miserable rainy return to my temporary Missouri base. 

I thought I'd avoided that on the way to Livingston by postponing my westbound trip by one day. But no. The universe just tacked it on to my eastbound return from Livingston.

Furthermore, my departure time was delayed by a crazy wrinkle on Saturday morning: The Flying J gas pumps. 

My original plan: Gas up my car before wheeling out of the travel center. But.

The pumps inexplicably were on a slow machine protest strike, where each of us pumpers thought, "Is it me?" only to realize, just as slowly as the gas ticked into our tanks, "No, it's not me, it's the pumps," as each pumper individually experienced the same phenomenon, but which the staff inside did not yet know.

I didn't see this next thing happen, but one man was so frustrated, apparently he tore away from the pumps without having taken the handle out of his tank. 

This was relayed to me by a woman who pulled up after I had tried at two different pumps to get gas and she said to me: "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong? - or is there something wrong with the pumps?" I had just returned to the pumps after an unsatisfying conversation with one of the cashiers inside, during which I'd tried to explain that it took five minutes to put less than one gallon of gas in my tank, and the cashier just wasn't getting it. I was simply the first of what was to become many with the same complaint.

To the woman who asked me, "Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?" I replied with reassurance: "No, it's not you; it's the pumps. And now you can switch to being disgruntled."

Fortunately, there was a gas station across the road - the DK - where I did finally fill my tank successfully with gas. 

The DK in Texarkana, off Exit 2, I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
The DK in Texarkana, off Exit 2, I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

Afterward, I sat in my car, gazing contemplatively through the windshield at the rain. It was so gloomy outside and I dreaded getting back on the interstate, knowing that although the rain was relatively light where I sat, it would be amplified on the spray-spewing, semi-truck-laden highway, making for a miserably tense drive at a high speed. The weather forecast told me that I wouldn't be driving out of the rain any time soon.

 

Rain at the DK in Texarkana, off I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.
Rain at the DK in Texarkana, off Exit 2, I-30. Arkansas. October 2022. Credit: Mzuriana.

We make small and large decisions all the time on a road trip. We plug in all sorts of algebraic variables into the decision equation, depending on our individual tastes, fears, time frames, and "shoulds." 

Like this "should": "You should buck up and drive on the interstate. Don't be a wuss. Be a warrior. A chingona."

 

The Good

And then I thought: "No. I'm on a road trip. A road trip is a pleasure trip, not a test. Take the blue roads. Relax. Be serene.

So I poked a no-highway re-route into Google Maps, decided I could live with the extra time slapped on to the trip duration, and hoped I'd eventually get out of the rain, at which point I could switch over to a faster track. 

I immediately relaxed. I felt good.

A bonus good:  Gorgeous fall color in the forest of the Oachita Mountains.

The Bad

Mountains + valleys + rain = mist. Mist is the romantic word, except for those of us who've read Stephen King's The Mist. (Trivia: And in the movie, seeing The Walking Dead's Carol there.)

Fog is the more pragmatic word. The Oachita fog was almost impenetrable. Around blind curves. Down steep inclines. Occasionally coming out of the fog for a brief respite and the visceral release of a held-in breath, then a plunge back into the white-out. The occasional oncoming idiot without their headlights on. The stoopids.

The Grind

Despite the beauty of the mountains and the forests, despite the relatively relaxed drive through the rain (once the fog was behind me), the distance still to go became a grind. 

I was prepared to spend another night on the road, but in one of those algorithmic equations that go into decision-making, I was not enthusiastic about pulling into a minimal-standards motel at a Saturday-night rate. My Google map told me that if I deadheaded it to my Missouri base, I'd definitely be rolling in after dark fell. 

The Bad

To my great consternation, a fairly recent development for me is difficulty driving at night, so it's a tense enterprise under the best of circumstances. The best of circumstance = clear weather, well-marked road lanes (i.e. fresh white reflective paint lines), not too many deep curves, and speed limits at 65 or less.

Another night in a truck stop would be fine, although the blacktops aren't known for many truck stops. It was a gamble. I started looking for a truck stop at 5:00 p.m.

The Good

Eventually, the rain seemed to have dissipated enough that an interstate - both for its faster track and more plentiful opportunities for a truck stop to overnight in - had me reroute my way back home. In theory, the new route sliced an hour off my time. 

The Bad

It looked like I'd still be driving at night, after all, unless I found that elusive truck stop or rest area.

Fortunately, as night fell, I was on a highway with the desired well-marked white lane lines and plentiful pilot cars that I could follow at a helpful, yet not too close, distance. (Don't want to scare my unwitting road guides by tailgating.)

The Good

In the end, I brought myself all the way back to my Missouri base, thanks to the unknowing kindness of my pilot cars.

 

Some other rainy times and places