This morning when I got up I let the cats out into the back yard as I always do and then got my coffee, did my yoga, and ate breakfast. Baldrick, as usual, came back in about 30 minutes later to crawl onto our bed for his morning nap. Benito remained outside.

Not long after C got up, I went outside again just in time to see Benito jump on our back retaining wall. This is very normal behavior for him as he loves to play “jungle cat”–stalking under the huge jade plant and lying under the fern, etc.

Well, this time, as I saw him leap onto the wall, my eye was distracted by movement just beyond him–maybe three feet away. It was a bushy black and white stripped tail just disappearing under the massive jade plant. It took about half a tick before my brain put the sight and the previous night’s odor (wafted in the bedroom window) together–skunk! And Benito was following the beastie!

Somehow, with an excited voice I was trying to keep calm, I got Benito to give up following the skunk and to come to me. Whew! I can only imagine what bathing Benito would be like–a whirring set of razors with damp fur, I should think. Into the house he went, then C and I tried to see the skunk (and take a picture, but it was in too dense of cover for a pic) and what it was up to. It was then that we noticed that the pile of brush hidden behind the massively over-grown jade plant had an opening. Crap. Skunk den.

The property management folks are sending out humane skunk removers. Until then, we’re keeping the cats inside as rabid skunks aren’t all that unusual here and also it’s the right time of year for mama-skunks to have babies, and thus be more protective. Even if not rabid, who needs are skunk-scented cat! While cats and skunks have been known to get along well together, I really don’t want to risk the stinky pile of fur hiding under the bed that could result if they weren’t best buddies.

So, let’s see, we’ve had rats and snakes and lizards and birds and opossum and  all sorts of spiders and bugs. Neighbors have seen a coyote not too long ago. I guess that leaves cougars and condors and maybe a bear still to come on the CA residential wildlife parade!

…jiggidy-jig, as they say.

Yes, I’ve been back for 6 days already and haven’t posted, but I do have the (lame) excuse of having been quite busy.

The last part of the journey was alternately frustrating and lovely. Here are the posts I wrote, but couldn’t upload at the time, plus new material…

*****

On the 49, Lake Shore Limited

The first train back was the 449, a branch of the Limited, from Boston to Albany. On that train I met a couple who returning home from their honeymoon on Cape Cod. They’re on this train as well, and I saw them at dinner (they were at the table next to me). Nice people, for loony Christians, and obviously very happy together (which is lovely to see, even in loony Christians).

I should say that they’re not loony preachy Christians–the only way I knew they were “of the faith” was when she mentioned their church in passing and then, later, I saw her bags, which have “Jesus <heart>’s You!” sharpied on them. She’s probably about 33 or so, but she had sharpied more than one or two such mottoes on the bags. Kinda made me wish I had sharpied “Buddha Rocks!” or something similar on my bags.

Just kidding. I don’t put bumper stickers on my car, so messages on my bags are right out, I think.

I almost skipped dinner tonight, as I am so wiped out from lack of sleep the past two nights (just not sleeping well for some reason), but I’m glad I didn’t. At my table was a nice girl from Minnesota and a couple from Northern Ireland. The wife was actually Scottish but married her N. Irish hubby and they make their home near Belfast.

We had a great conversation. I told them that I had been in Belfast briefly in 1987 and had been searched for bombs, etc. and they told me they had the same experience in NYC the other day. They also explained that Belfast was a boom-town (in a good way, not exploding bombs–and not as much as Dublin, but plenty) and that I wouldn’t recognize the city now, it had so changed.

We then talked about their new government, about which they are very hopeful and excited. They said this time the lower class/working people were behind the government and that that is what was missing before.

And we talked about Bush and our government. They said they had been hearing quite a few jokes about Bush and wondered if the country’s dislike was just about Iraq or something more. I said that I thought Iraq was kind of the last straw–that many of us never liked him and others of us started to dislike him after he squandered the universal goodwill after 9/11. And there was that God-talking-to-him-thing, of course.

Anyway, they were a lovely couple. Funny, smart, interested in what we thought and open to sharing their impressions and ideas. Good people, as they say.

*****
13 May

I awoke this morning to find dawn breaking over what looked suspiciously like Ohio farmland. I was just finishing dressing when my sleeper attendant Jose buzzed to awaken me at the appointed hour (in case I overslept, I left a wake-up call). I opened my door to find him smiling and holding a steaming cup of black java for me. Great service!

I asked him where we were and he informed me that we were (not surprisingly) running about 1.5 hours late. On this route that is very much to be expected as there is so much freight traffic. The last stop a few minutes before had been in Sandusky, Ohio, thus confirming my earlier idea.

I finished my morning routine and noticed that there was a lot of water out the window. I knew the route took us near Lake Erie, but I was surprised that it took us directly next to it here. It did, and as I had breakfast in the diner, we passed near the Davis-Bessie nuke on our way to Toledo.

By the time we reached Toledo, I had stuffed-from-huge-breakfast-waddled back to my compartment which Jose has already converted back into seats. I was just finishing my post-breakfast tooth brushing when there was a knock at my door. There was Jose’s smiling face again–this time bearing the morning paper. I was expecting the Toledo Blade (Amtrak always distributes papers to its first class or business class riders–often USA Today but sometimes local papers), but when I looked at the bundle Jose had handed me I was ecstatic to find it was the Sunday New York Times! Heaven. I did the puzzle in, I think, record time–it was completed before we reached Chicago.

*****
Waiting on the Southwest Chief (5/13/07)

So I’m in Chicago where I had lovely internet last time here, but today, bupkis. Actually, I have a signal, but their connection is toast so it does me no good at all. I spoke to the attendants who said “yeah, it works or it doesn’t–nothin’ we can do about it.”

I think that’ll rate a call to Amtrak.

I was hoping to see Christopher waiting for me here, though he had said he couldn’t join me. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fibbing when he told me that (to surprise me here in Chicago). Poo. I called him to say I missed him and was sorry he couldn’t be there with me. Frankly, the trip was wearing on me so I was really disappointed. Oh well. One last long train then a short trip home.
*****

It’s 7:25am CDT on Monday the 14th, and we’re running at least 5 hours late. A freight train in front of us had a breakdown/derailment and so we were stopped from about 1:30 or 2am until about 7:10am. So rather than sleep the night away while we cross Kansas farmland, we get to see it in all its glory for the next few hours.

In other words, I may get some work done.

Still, the lack of movement made my morning shower a vertical experience (rather than a seated one) and breakfast was spill-free (of course, the amazing waiter Larry pretty much ensures that, even in motion–he pours all liquids from on high, in a showy manner and does not spill).
*****
We finally get moving and make our way across Kansas as the morning slips by. By early afternoon, we’re in Dodge City as I have lunch with a lovely older couple from Chicago. The cattle holding pens filled with our future beef flash past our windows in disturbing numbers. I continue my lunch, enjoying my chicken caesar salad all the more for it being beef-free.

Finally, we reach Colorado and the time shifts back an hour (actually, it changes before we get to Colorado, but as it’s in the middle of nowhere, who would know?). It’s now after 2pm as we pass Holly, CO on our way to Lamar, which we should reach before 3pm.

We were supposed to be in Lamar at 7:06am MDT. Ooops.

On through the corner of Colorado and up into the mountains of northern New Mexico. We pass over the Raton summit at over 7000 feet, and through its tunnel at the top and head down a bit into Raton proper. On the other side of the small town there are loads of high plateau range–and animals: deer, elk, and maybe even something antelope-ish (as in “where the deer and the antelope play”). At one point, and no, I did not have my camera handy (darn!), I saw a bear amble away from the tracks towards the tree-line nearby! I texted Christopher to let him know I had just seen a bear–in the wild!

His response was puzzling: Are you going to bed soon?

I replied, “Yes, why?”

“Call me when you get to Albuquerque–no roaming.”

Well, I have no roaming on my plan, so I called him right then as this exchange was odd. He answered his phone and there was much noise behind him. I asked where he was and he replied, “In a bar.”

“What bar?”

“Some bar in Albuquerque.”

Seems he had heard how disappointed I was that he couldn’t meet me in Chicago to ride the last major train back with me and so he decided to surprise me where he could–in Albuquerque.

That last couple of hours to ABQ took forever, but then we were in (after getting stopped mere feet from the station by a crazy drunk who flagged down the train then tried to crawl under the engine!) and there, far down the platform, was a tall figure in a familiar straw hat.

I was thrilled.

He came bearing fancy “picnic” goodies from Whole Foods, though his tapenade was confiscated as a possible explosive at the airport (ask him about it–silly story!) and he had to convince the TSA that St. Andre cheese was not an explosive (I said he should have said that after ingestion, all bets were off on that point), but all I cared about was that he was there.

Seems he decided after speaking to me in Chicago to meet me wherever he could–just because I sounded so disappointed. What a sweetheart!

Having him with me made the last day on the train so much better. It took us forever to get into LA, but we could talk and play cards so the time passed.

Finally, we were in the car and pulling into the driveway. Home! Where the cats looked at me oddly for a few minutes and I could finally take a breath.

But not quite. As I let the boys out the back door I began to notice things were a bit different. Seems that before he got on his flight, Christopher had been a busy man. When we spoke (me in Chicago), he claimed to be “pulling weeds”–but in reality he was planting flowers and placing lights. The back yard now has more color and there are little “Japanese lantern” lights on our eaves. It was lovely. It is lovely. And he had done it just to make me happy.

Silly man…he doesn’t realize that he’s spoiled me now.

*****

So, home again, and for almost a week. Laundry has been done (ah, to not be getting clothes out of a suitcase!) and sleeping in my own bed is glorious. Benito has been sleeping on my head and Christopher’s snoring has yet to wake me. It’s fantastic to be home.

Yesterday I spent the day meeting with clients. In the evening, however, I got to participate in a Boston tradition (thanks to photographer Stephen Sherman): I went to a ballgame at Fenway Park…

…excuse me, that’s “Fenway Pahk.”

When you first approach the park, the atmosphere is so enthusiastic and exciting you can’t help but get into it. Here’s what it looks like from just outside the park:

The place is like a carnival, with the best barkers ever because of the Boston accent.

Once inside the “pahk” you really do get a sense of its history and age, but not in any negative way. It’s a very small park. I don’t have a telephoto lens, and this sign: is in left-center field. Our seats were in right field, just behind the foul pole (“Pesky’s Pole“). It’s much closer than in Petco or Turner Field. It feels just a bit larger than Cooper Stadium’s (Columbus’ minor league park) dimensions, in fact.

One of the great things about Fenway is the scoreboard at the base of the Green Monster (“monstah”). It’s still just a guy with cards rather than some electronic gizmo. From his perch inside the Monster he changes the game score as needed, by hand, and he activates the ball/strike/out lights. In between half-innings he runs out onto the field (sometimes with a ladder) to change the league scores, as seen here:

One thing I totally forgot about was the odd Fenway tradition of singing Sweet Caroline during the 8th inning switch. I had seen that in Fever Pitch, but to experience it was, well, very odd. It has a bit of the Rocky Horror audience participation to it–for example, after singing the line “Sweet Caroline” the people chant the musical “dah-dah-dah” and they all stand up and do certain movements (like arm swings) at certain times.

Oh, and I did sing along, of course. Beer-free, even. Speaking of beer, by this time in the game, of course, you have more than a few drunken (Irish, especially) Bostonians in the crowd so I think the singing makes cultural sense. The article cited above kind of confirms that. By the way, I’m not being racist with the “Irish” comment–you come here and go to a game and tell me that most of the “fun” crowd members aren’t Irish. I saw them–lots of red hair, very white skin, and beer-laden. We had a visit from one of these folks who sat down in a seat next to us for an inning or so–this guy could barely walk, but he had no problem joining in our conversation (“butting in” would be more like it).

Anyway, it was a great experience. A classic ballpark. And another reason to hate Steinbrenner (for planning on tearing down Yankee Stadium). The classic ballparks are American landmarks and should be preserved. I’m glad I got to see a game in one.

This evening I gave my (last) presentation. It took place in a rental studio which is part of a photo store located in a very cool reclaimed building on the wharfs. The event went well with a full house:
(a shot from before things got going, as always, click for larger version))

After the event was over, people often come to me to ask questions or to introduce themselves. This took some time and by the time my ride and I were ready to go, there were only a few of us left. We started for the door. Suddenly, I was aware of being directed to a back staircase, and of a now-familiar sound.

Yes, that was a klaxon I was hearing. When we got to the street we were greeted by the sight of Boston’s fire department, deploying into the building .

Last night I got to see Brookline’s FD at work, this time it was Boston’s.

God I hope tonight is non-eventful.

My first night in Boston was interrupted at about 3:45am by a klaxon to wake the dead. It was the fire alarm. Buzzing and flashing spurring me to involuntary action, I was on my feet before my eyes were able to fully focus.

Somehow, in my grogginess, I managed to have enough of my brain function to do the following:
put on pants (as I was sleeping in a Padres “beisbol” tshirt and undies)
unplug iBook and shove it in backpack
grab camera from the table where I had uploaded pictures the night before, and shove it in backpack
grab room key
grab wallet
grab backpack

I already had my presentation notes and the checks I’d previously received from clients in the bag (thank heavens, as I did not think about them until later).

And, slipping into my flip-flops, I was headed out into the atrium and down the stairs still without any full cognitive thought.

Luckily, it was a warm night so those of us gathered outside weren’t uncomfortable. Just sleepy and worried. About the same time as I got out front, the firemen arrived, and I whipped out my camera figuring that this might end up being a significant event. How I managed to take low-light photos at all, with only 2 hours sleep and full grogginess in my brain, I’ll never know. But I did:

Most of the hotel was empty by then, as the firemen rushed in to inspect the hotel (there was no obvious smoke or anything though the hallway outside my room was quite warm). Many of the guests are elderly as there are many hospitals nearby–the guests are patients and families of patients, but they still got out of the hotel in good time. No complaining, just people checking to see if other people were okay:

I called Christopher to let him know what was happening, and to calm myself a bit. While talking with him I noticed that there were people looking out windows in the hotel still–looking out on the firetrucks and everyone lined up outside. I couldn’t believe their stupidity! The fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night but they chose not to escape?! People in wheelchairs had gotten out but these obviously able-bodied people didn’t bother? You just know that if things had been worse, they’d end up needing to be rescued.

Anyway, after about 15 or 20 minutes, the firemen came out: gave the “all clear,” and in we went in an orderly fashion. When I got to my room I emailed Christopher to let him know it was a false alarm, and went back to bed. I was exhausted.

In the morning, I went to upload the photos I had taken of the event. My USB cable was gone.

It had been on the table the night before, but it was gone, gone. I went through everything I had, twice, then it dawned on me–I grabbed the camera last night off the table; the cable had been next to the camera; when I took the camera out of my bag outside, the cable could have fallen out. Crap. I retraced my steps from last night, hoping to find it someplace, but no luck. So I went to the front desk to see if anyone had turned a cable in. Again, no luck. Poo.

I went back to my room to google “Target” and “Radio Shack” in hopes of finding one near the hotel where I could buy a new cable this morning. As the connection crawled through to reveal a Target about a half-mile from here, the phone rang. It was the front desk.

Someone just turned in my cable.

My record of bringing nice weather with me continues.

Welcome to Boston where, in Brookline (about 1 mile from Fenway), the clock read:

in the evening, and the temperature was:

In most traditional, chain hotels, at the bar you can find a (usually) scary assortment of travel-weary business-people often looking for a buzz and maybe a companion for an evening. At this hotel, its bar has provided much more interesting entertainment.

On Saturday, I sat down to have dinner at the bar (rather than take up a table at the obviously busy restaurant) and the very tall Nigerian bartender began playing iPod after iPod. A couple of the other guests were regulars, apparently, and they each brought in their iPods to share the odd tunes they had found. Here is a partial playlist:

Two AC/DC songs, as done by Hayseed Dixie
Lovecats (The Cure), as done by Paul Anka
Shock the Monkey (P. Gabriel), as done by Don Ho

and on and on. I was in tears laughing at all the odd remakes. The guys talking about the tunes were hilarious as well. And the giant Nigerian was so kind, smart, and funny I tipped him heavily.

Then, today, I went to lunch at the bar and sat next to a French-American (who came here as an adult and still had a full-on French accent) who was involved in setting global energy policy and one of the most famous florists in Washington, DC–a man of at least 75 with the old Southern accent you rarely find here any more. The conversation was amazing between the two men and suddenly they included me in it. I impressed the Franco-American because I answered two questions he said no one ever got right (he was floored I knew the answers) and the florist insisted on buying my lunch…and plying me with tastings of the house rosé.

What an afternoon! We had to break up the party as I had to prepare for my event tonight and the Fr/Am man had to go have a conference call with the Chinese government. The elderly florist was upset that I couldn’t join him for lunch tomorrow as he wanted to bring me a bouquet.

Now that’s a hotel bar.

Apparently Bush is editing the National Parks websites. At the bottom of each page, they load a factoid. Look at the website for the National World War Two Memorial and the factoid I found this morning.

I’m surprised it didn’t read “nekkid.”

Current mileage total: 5396.
_______

Having a decent digital camera lets me take all sorts of pics I might not have in the days of film. After all, it cost to process each image! But now, I just point and fire away.

On this trip (and just today in this city), I took shots like this for me (click for larger versions):

(Tree at the White House)

(Eisenhower Old Executive Bldg. dressed for the Queen’s visit)

…and shots like these for my husband:

(Union Station in DC)

(cool building front near Russian Embassy)

(American Chemical Society building)

…and shots like this for my brother John:

(the NAB headquarters, about 8 buildings from my hotel).

So I’ve made it to Washington, DC and, this afternoon (after some hotel issues, sigh), I headed out to walk around a bit. The hotel I’m in is not too far from several major national attractions, including this one (click any image for larger versions):

I actually walked around it quite a bit starting from that north side and then heading to the well known South Lawn, where I met two nice English (young) guys, one of whom took this:

(Please note that it was raining a bit which is why I look a bit disheveled)

Anyway, I walked back around to the other side and lo and behold, this happened:

Yes, they opened a gate. This was actually the second time the gate was opened while I was there. The lawn was calling me. It had already been teased at me once, twice was practically the gods commanding me to try! The urge to run in and just try and make it to the wall of the building was palpable! It’s really not very far and for that brief news cycle, I would be famous! O fickle, fickle fame…within my grasp…but…but…

…but, I remembered my promise to Christopher–I told him I would try not to get arrested in DC (for doing something anti-Bush was the implication, of course).

Sigh.