A full moon Halloween?

 This fall, all the crucial, life-changing events seem to have taken place around the time of the full moon. So it came as no surprise to me that the moon phase calendar indicates a waxing gibbous moon, 89% of full, tonight.  The official full moon will actually occur on Nov. 2, but it will certainly be big, round and bright enough to add a lot of drama to Halloween night, Día de Los Angelitos and Día del Muertos.

The goal for today is to move enough essentials that we can actually have dinner (well, maybe leftover pizza) and spend the night in the new condo. I look around and it seems to me that although I have driven umpteen carloads of stuff over there (most of it more or less essential), it doesn't look like there's anything gone! We have far too much material stuff and far too much on our minds as well. I've promised myself a nice, quiet mental breakdown siesta when it's all over.

The Capt posted on his five-day adventure to Barra de Navidad, where he saved our boat, S/V "Bliss" from sinking at the dock. And he brought back 2-1/2 kilos of Melaque raisins, the all-time best raisins I've ever found. He even found the shop that wholesales them, so he got them for about $1.25USD per pound. So although it was lonesome and stressful doing all that packing and schlepping by myself, there were excellent compensations.We still have a boat, and we've got raisins.

And now, on to the finish line!

Las Calabasas Barrachas

No time for blogging this week, we're moving! But with Halloween looming on Saturday, I couldn't resist posting a cautionary image I've been saving all year just for this occasion. Y'all be careful out there.


As for me, I will probably snooze through the whole thing in my new bedroom and get up for Dia de Los Muertos on Nov. 1. This year I'm planning to make an ofrenda for my cousin Gene, with a big plate of barbecued ribs,  photos of Austin and Lone Star memorabilia.

Here I go again...

National Novel Writing Month

I know, I know. Here I am, moving to a new place, five minutes away, but still the most ambitious move I've ever made in my life.  Nevertheless, last November when I joined NaNoWriMo (as it's affectionately called), I was in Oklahoma visiting my mom and sister, with all kinds of distractions, and I still managed to get 10k words written, much of it in airports between flights. So maybe this year I'll get 20K written, who knows?



There's always something going on. If I wait until it's convenient I'll probably never write anything more in my lifetime beyond this blog. I managed to write news stories and features on an almost daily basis, years ago. Now I have to remember how I set that pace and kept up with it for more than a decade.


I have friends who will also be dipping their toes into the same pool, so I just wanted you to know, whoever and wherever you are, that I'm right next to you, with my toes hovering over the same waters. Let's dive in together, shall we?

Communication failure

Update on our...uh..."sinking" boat. The Capt called me last night from Barra de Navidad and said he was standing in the cabin so I knew right away that reports of her demise were greatly exaggerated. Apparently when Fred said four inches of water, he was talking about four inches below the cabin sole. No wading required. That is a high water level and does need attending to. Fred apparently either couldn't get the bilge pump started or didn't know how, so the Capt's presence was required. But (grumble) it's too bad I couldn't clone him, because he's needed here, too.


Anyway, when he left the boat in April he had several boat projects not quite finished, so he'll  putter until Tuesday, when he'll have to catch a midnight bus back to Guadalajara Airport, spend the night there and catch the early flight back to Sonora. And then we move the big stuff to the condo and start settling in.

"By the way, your boat is sinking..."

 Our Morgan 33 has taken on some water, and not in a good way

It's probably our fault for feeling so smug. While many of our boat-owning friends had close calls and disasters here in the anchorage during Tropical Storm Jimena in September, we were congratulating ourselves for having stored our vessel safe and snug in a small marina in Barra de Navidad. But Hurricane Rick passed near enough to Barra, apparently, to dump quite a lot of water on—and in—her.


Our friend Fred, who lives in Barra and makes periodic welfare checks on "Bliss," emailed the Capt yesterday and mentioned that a few days ago he had found four inches of water inside the boat. Caramba!


So this morning I rushed the Capt to the airport in Hermosillo, and he'll be in Barra by tonight. In his luggage he's carrying a replacement bilge pump, just in case. The Spanish word for pump is...you guessed it! Bomba! If any airline officials ask him what he's got in his bag that's so heavy, he's going to have to tell them. Dos carambas!


Meanwhile, the First Mate is left to sweat the small stuff. With less than a week left to make our move, I'll be schlepping everything portable from our old place to the new one—dishes, food, bathroom stuff, small appliances, etc., etc. If I manage to coax any of our friends to help, especially if they have a pick-up, I might get more ambitious. Living like this, with half our stuff in one place and half in another, is stressful.

I just back from Hermosillo 15 minutes ago, and the Capt just called to let me know he'd landed at Guadalajara Airport. Guess nobody took him for a terrorista.

'Scuse me while I disappear...

 We are in the midst of the most complicated and expensive move we have ever made.  From paperwork to painting to people who don't show up for appointments, nothing has turned out as expected, but we will soldier on and get it done. We've already made huge progress, and with a week to go, it's time to shift into high gear, and disappear. Our social life will have to go on hold, including our online social life. Minimal email, no blogging.  When it's all over this space will be all pictures and triumph.

Several of my friends have been very ill lately with mysterious ailments that resemble H1N1 virus. Another good reason for us to keep a low profile for a while. My sister in Texas sent me these prevention tips and I thought I'd pass them on. Some are unfamiliar to me (drink lots of coffee?). But maybe I'm the last one on the planet not to hear about them, having been distracted by other things.

In a global epidemic of this nature, it's almost impossible to avoid coming into contact with H1N1 in spite of all precautions. The only portals of entry are the nostrils and mouth/throat. Contact with H1N1 is not so much of a problem as proliferation is.
      
While you are still healthy and not showing any symptoms of H1N1 infection, in order to prevent proliferation, aggravation of symptoms and development of secondary infections, some very simple steps, not fully highlighted in most official communications, can be practiced (instead of focusing on how to stock N95 or Tamiflu):

1. Frequent hand-washing (well highlighted in all official communications). 

2. "Hands-off-the-face" approach. Resist all temptations to touch any part of face (except to eat or bathe).

 3. Gargle twice a day with warm salt water (use Listerine if you don't trust salt). H1N1 takes 2-3 days after initial infection in the throat/ nasal cavity to proliferate and show characteristic symptoms. Gargling prevents proliferation. In a way, gargling with salt water has the same effect on a healthy individual that Tamiflu has on an infected one. Don't underestimate this simple, inexpensive and powerful preventative method.

4. Similar to 3 above, clean your nostrils at least once every day with warm salt water. Not everybody may be good at using a Neti pot to clean nasal cavities, but blowing the nose hard once a day and swabbing both nostrils with cotton buds dipped in warm salt water is very effective in bringing down viral population. 

5. Boost your natural immunity with foods that are rich in Vitamin C (citrus fruits). If you have to supplement with Vitamin C tablets, make sure that it also has zinc to boost absorption.
 
6. Drink as much of warm liquids (tea, coffee, etc) as you can. Drinking warm liquids has the same effect as gargling, but in the reverse direction. They wash off proliferating viruses from the throat into the stomach where they cannot survive, proliferate or do any harm.

My BAD

Blogger Action Day, that is. Unfortunately it's also the day I have to get up at the crack of dawn and drive up to Tucson to take a look at the proofs of our annual antique guide before it can go to press. This means that while I have a topic in mind, I have only a few minutes to write about it. (I know, I shoulda done it yesterday.)


I've been enthusiastic about solar energy ever since the first time I grasped that a panel of solar cells could actually produce electricity. And a house design incorporating solar features could actually stay warmer in winter and cooler in summer, with no draw on electricity. And when I saw a car that ran on solar energy, I was in love. Imagine a Prius running on solar power with plug-in backup, instead of gas.

In an effort to help the idea of solar homes to catch on, the Solar Decathlon is taking place right now on the National Mall in Washington DC. Students from all over the world are competing to create efficient, affordable and marketable solar homes. There's a lot of raw wood, a lot of boxiness in the designs, but the units had to be created in their home states/countries, shipped to DC and erected quickly, which may have limited the design options. The DOE's website shows a gallery of all the entries, a timelapse video of the activities on the Mall and more. It's a slick presentation — maybe a little too slick for my taste — but the coverage is pretty thorough. I just wish I could find out what's going to happen to all those houses after the event is over. Recycling, I guess.

 Solar home entry from Spain

Solar home from U of Louisiana Lafayette, dubbed "most marketable"

Solar isn't the complete answer, but it's one of the few choices that doesn't increase the draw on power plants (like plug-in electric cars), create toxic waste (like coal and nuclear plants), kill birds and make unacceptable levels of noise (like windpower) or require a great deal of technical knowhow to put into use. So it's certainly an option that should be incorporated into any campaign to alter climate change.

Horizontalizing

I remember when I was about four and my mom would tuck my baby sister into her crib and then make me join her for a nap. There we'd be in my parents' bed, her hand holding mine so I couldn't crawl out and go get into trouble, her long nails digging in when I squirmed. Naturally, I hated naptime.

Now my nap is one of my favorite things. I call it siesta since it's such an integral part of my adopted country's culture. And there's even a scientific basis for a good long one, not just the 20-minute catnap the "experts" used to say was all we needed. The evidence is here, at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yS5fzGcjI4&feature=player_embedded.

I'm just glad I get to do it without all those wires, they'd be awfully hard to get used to.

This is for all you cat lovers.

If it doesn't open, go to
http://www.babelgum.com/3003028/moscow-cat-theater.html

Los Viejos

My friend and blogging buddy Jan wrote last month about the fate of thirteen elderly men living in a nursing home named El Cobijo (The Shelter) that was destroyed in nearby San Jose by hurricane Jimena. She went on to contact a number of people back in the States asking for funds to help these gentlemen, who were taken into an elderly ladies' home in Guaymas where they'll be allowed to stay four months, but they have nothing, as all their clothing and belongings were lost. The ladies' home is supported by the Catholic Church, and their families contribute as well, but the men are admitted at no charge and there are apparently some government funds for certain expenses.


Jan's little fund has been growing over the past few weeks, and yesterday she and another friend Kris and I took some pesos to buy warm clothes for them, and meat at the carneceria.


Prices for winter garments were not bad at Woolworth's, so we collected armloads of sudaderas (sweatshirts), playeras (long-sleeved T-shirts), pantalones (sweatpants), chaquetas de vellón (fleece jackets), calcetas (socks), camisetas (undershirts) and guantes (gloves), and, in three trips, lugged them to the counter. I was able to explain to the salesgirls in Spanish what we were up to, and they gathered around in curiosity, helping us carry the beanbag chair-size bags out to the street where Jan could bring her Jeep around to pick us up. Then it was off to the butcher's to buy some chickens, carne para cocer (literally, beef to boil or bake—inexpensive cuts that need a lot of cooking, I think) and carne molido (ground beef). We finished off our expedition at Soriana, where we got turkey sausage, turkey lunchmeat and cookies.


Mother Superior at the ladies' home opened the gate for us when we arrived and swarms of assistants helped us carry our load to the patio where most of the viejos were sitting. For us, it was a warm afternoon, but they were feeling the autumn chill, so right away we began separating out the sizes and distributing jackets, hats and warm shirts to them, introducing ourselves to each of them as we went. It felt like Christmas, only better. As each old man would try on his new hat or jacket, he'd give us a big grin and "gracias" and there'd be a round of applause.


A few of the ladies wandered over, and one of them began to sing in a surprisingly strong voice, right on key. When she got to the chorus I realized she was singing "Cielito Lindo" so I chimed in. A couple of other people joined the song as well. Afterward, a tiny old lady with legs that looked like broomsticks, bent over double in her wheelchair staring at her lap, oblivious to what was going on around her, started the song up again.


The men of El Cobijo have another three months to stay where they are, and then they must move to their own place. The head caregiver, Luz, tells us they don't want to move back to San Jose, preferring to stay in Guaymas, closer to medical care and families. So the trustees who administer the government support are meeting now to work out where they'll go. Part of Jan's fund will go to help make whatever shelter they find more livable. With the rest, we'll make regular weekly contributions of food and occasional treats. And we've just begun thinking about a Christmas party for them. I'm hoping there'll be lots of singing.


Ay, ay, ay, ay
Canta y no llores
Sing, and don't cry
Porque cantando se alegran
Because singing makes happy,
Cielito lindo, los corazones
Pretty beloved, the hearts

The Cinderella dog

Kristin and Karlee of the San Carlos Canine Center with a few of their friends

Sometimes things turn out better than you could ever imagine. I posted on Kristin, owner of San Carlos Canine Center (aka DogDaze) a couple of days ago, with photos of a rescue pup saved from starvation, named Fe (Spanish for faith). Canadians who kept promising for three months to give her a home reneged without notifying Kristin, who then worried that Fe was growing beyond the easily-adoptable cute baby stage. But Fe's before-and-after photos on this blog caught the eye of some dog lovers in Massachusetts, and they emailed me that they'd give her a home if she could get there. I passed their email on to Kristin, thinking at least she'd be encouraged in finding the pup a home.  I had my doubts that it would work out, trying to get Fe to Massachusetts, but then I got the good news that the adoption is underway and plans are now being made to fly her to Boston. Having adopted Mexican dogs before, they could be perfect for helping shy little Fe adapt to a new life.

Fe isn't a little puppy anymore, but what she's lost in puppyness she's gained in sweet behavior. After I'd been at the Center for a bit, she came over and put her head on my knee, looking up at me. Kristin says she's a specific Mexican breed, called criollolo. She's only five months old but has already gone into heat—the day she was taken in to be neutered, in fact. 

Kristin keeps herself busy running the Canine Center, as well as helping with the efforts to restore normal life in the storm-ravaged ejidos near San Carlos. Her daughter Karlee does all the dog grooming, and assistant Juanita, a groomer of humans, holds down the fort at night and bakes the Center's trademark dog cookies. They have a website, which Kristin says she needs to update, but you should check out the video...fun!

Joy in Mudville

Olaf gave us a good soaking over the weekend, but after his tempestuous cousin Jimena he was a gatito. Some people in the ejidos hardest-hit a month ago were evacuated again as a precaution, and there was agitated talk of sandbags, but it only amounted to talk, and a lot of mud after our usual front yard pond subsided.

But there's joy in Mudville today. Nose to the grindstone, eye on the ball, yours truly wrapped up her part of the publishing project and handed it over to the Capt, the house techie, who is turning it into PDFs and sending it off to the printer this afternoon.

Our friend Mark arrived from Vancouver just in time to take the annual photo we put on our welcome page, so we piled into his car with cameras and laptop, and went down to our favorite restaurant, La Palapa Griega on the beach. We were windblown and squinting in the sun like moles emerging from the den after a long winter. We made a point of including the sand, strewn with kayaks, in the background, because this year we are no longer making any effort to deny the fact that we have oursourced our publishing company to Mexico. Yes, it can be done (with a few snags like hurricanes).

Oh, and the other reason we're smiling? We stopped by the condo this morning and we can no longer smell mold. !Gracias a Dios, que la vida esta dulce!

Our Santa Francisca

I've blogged about her before, but Kristin at Wag the Dog, the local pet place, deserves another mention. She and her husband Francisco have not only done a great deal of animal rescue here in San Carlos but more recently have been active in getting supplies to the two-legged victims of Jimena. Right now she's trying to get underwear for them, something that usually doesn't turn up in the clothing donations. New would be best.


When the word got out that Kristin and her family cared about animals, people were dumping strays there in the middle of the night, finally forcing her to decide: was she going to run a shelter or a kennel for paying pet owners? Without funding (dog food alone runs into the big bucks) it was a no-brainer. She had to decide not to accept any more strays, though apparently she's still helping find homes by posting her phone number for inquiries.


Here's Fe (Mexican for faith), a six-month-old pup found in the Ranchitos and literally brought back to life with nutrition and meds. I won't have to tell you which is the before and which is the after picture. Fe is innoculated, housebroken, mild-mannered and looking for a home.

A sad postscript: I got an email from Kristin just now:

Unfortunatley she has not been adopted. She was on an adoption hold for three months. The people kept emailing me from Canada asking me to hold her for them until they got here. Every time I told them someone is interested in her, they insisted that they were coming for her. Of course the day for her pick up came and went with no word from them. I found out they had been here for three weeks and never even called me. Sadly what happens is that the longer an animal waits here for adoption, the less chance they have of being adopted. Everyone wants a puppy. Not many want an older dog. So we were stuck with three months of vet and food bills, and she missed numerous opportunites to be adopted. Really sad story, but I learned my lesson for sure~

Like giving birth

Can you imagine having a baby once a year...for 21 years?


Doing an annual publication is a little like that. When you're up to the final deadline you just can't do anything else. If you are to eat, someone must provide. No cleaning can be done, no mundane things. You feel lucky to have time to go to the bathroom! Any moment you steal for yourself is a moment you might have caught a typo that will come back to haunt you all year.


This year, in the midst of all the furor, a tropical storm named Olaf dumped rain on us, and a full moon made everything just a little weirder. Oh, and did I mention we're buying a condo?


Like giving birth, nobody can do it for you. You have it all in your head and it would take longer to explain what needs to be done than to do it yourself. But I was so grateful to have my friend Jan proofread and find mistakes I made years ago and never noticed. And Mark is going to come tomorrow morning to help with the crucial Table of Contents (People have told me they wouldn't be in our book anymore because the TOC listed them on the wrong page.)


Anyway, tomorrow morning, we email the galleys for our 21st edition to the printer and I start to pray. This new printer, in Oregon, is somehow going to send us proofs so we can look it over one more time before it goes on the press. Our last job, at a press we had used for 16 years, was so bad it looked like it had been turned out by a crew of stoned highschool dropouts at midnight (which might actually have been the case since the press was closing down and the regular crew had already been laid off.)


Now after about six weeks of sitting at the computer all day (I know, there are a lot of people who do that their whole lives) I am going to allow myself a day of postpartum depression. Having published one thing or another since before I turned 30, it's an old familiar feeling. I will stay in bed, read, sleep, eat decadent treats I normally wouldn't allow myself, and answer calls from people who didn't get their copy in on time and will now tell me it's my fault. And people who just got around to looking at their proofs and want me to know it's all wrong. And others who would like to be in the book, is there still time? When each edition first comes into my hands, I'm usually reluctant to look at it for a day or so, just knowing the mistakes will jump out at me like tarantulas. Yuck! Then curiosity overcomes doubts and I look through it like a new mommy counting fingers and toes. I already know it won't be perfect, but after last year, anything will be an improvement.


So, folks, if you've harbored fantasies of being a publisher, this is what it's like. Bueno suerte! It's very much like giving birth, and soon you'll forget the painful part, at least until the next time.

For better or for worse

The Capt is investigating something dark, creepy and potentially deadly that is thriving in the new condo—mold. Deadly for me, because I have pulmonary fibrosis, and very bad for him because he has sinus trouble. We will not be moving in until we deal with it.

These pretty blossoms are mold under a microscope, and we're plotting to kill them off. For lack of a certified mold technician we'll have to do it ourselves

 

We've read about various treatments for mold on the local internet forum. Bleach was said to be very effective, but we found warnings against it. Some have used vinegar with success, and we tried that, using a compressor, going through four gallon bottles of vinegar so far and creating an interesting pickle-jar ambience. But we can still smell mold, and there are spots where we can see it coming back. We had some professionals in to treat it with a spray, but it doesn't seem to have worked; maybe it needs more than one application since the walls are porous adobe brick.The Capt discovered another option: hydrogen peroxide, I'm not sure where we'd find gallon jugs of that, and he'd have to wear a  hazmat suit.

He's talking about spraying on a penetrating sealant over the brick after the treatment, and then, at least in the bedroom, painting it white. I like the look of white brick, it would brighten the room considerably.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not an oncoming train! In this case, it's the Waldo Tunnel in Sausalito, from a photographer's website. Makes me nostalgic for Northern California, but not for long...

Meanwhile, I'm proofreading our annual antique map guide, arriving at the mental stage I always reach this time of year when I'm exhilarated at the prospect of being finished and stressed over all the loose ends I fear I won't get tied up in time. My friend Jan volunteered to help proofread, and she caught some little stupids that have gotten by me for years!

Time is like water... when you have lots of it, you tend to waste it. Then it's almost gone and you think of all the things you could do, if you had more of it. After a good nap, of course.