Images from Richfield

Sometimes, the pictures aren't worth a full post. That doesn't mean the stories aren't worth going in a collection.


A few months ago, an amazingly cool sky:

At the grocery store. Who...? What...?

Of course! That's who it is! He was giving out candies to the "naughty ones." He took one look at me, and gave me two.

The company Christmas party I mentioned over at Pobble Thoughts. We found our seats, but the decoration had its back to us. I decided I should turn it around. Eeeep!

Scary, cyclops gingerbread doll. I wanted to steal it, but didn't.

 The MC of the event had visited the open bar more than once when he first got up. He made more stops there as the night went on. One of the announcements went like this:

There's a bar here tonight. That means liquor. Remember, whatever you do, however you behave, you will have to live with it for the rest of your life! Yes, sir!

They were giving away gym bags. That announcement, that came close to the end of the night, went like this:

Those bags in the back room? Those are for employees. People who work for (the company). If you take more than one, you are taking something out of the hands of your colleagues. One each. If you've taken more than one, well, it takes a real man to bring 'em back. O-kaaaaaay... Now that I think of it, that was the last time he got the mic.

More of the company party...

Not scary gingerbread decoration

Lithus and one of the managers

Unrelated to the company party, I looked out the window the other day, and discovered an igloo. Check out the window in the picture. That will give you a sense of how big this thing is.

Again, nothing worth a full post, but fun stories anyway.



Note ~ Another childhood memory: When I was first taught this song (at the same preschool, from the Pobble Thoughts post), my teacher explained it was "'reindeer paws', so it means you can hear the sound of the reindeers' feet - their paws - on the rooftop." Forty years later and I have just now come to realize it's pause, as opposed to paws. Yay for karaoke lyrics!

Christmas Lights in Richfield

It's official ~ I need a better camera. Until that happens, though, here are the best pictures of the Richfield lawn decorations I could manage. Richfield loves Christmas, and that makes me very happy.

Press play, and take a look...

This is a pretty little house and it's even nicer decorated

"Seasons Greetings" Points to the town for recognizing other holidays get celebrated this time of year, too!

I like the old movie theatre

Wintery Winter

When we woke up this morning, it was -11 here in Richfield. It was also 73 back home in New Orleans. You know, that place where we were just last weekend? That's an 84 degree difference. As I write this, it's warmed up both places ~ to 75 in NOLA and -3 in Richfield. At least I get to stay home and write. Lithus gets to fly in this. But feel really sorry for his ground crew, who are working underneath the helicopter's rotorwash ~ and the wind chill that comes with it...

Sometimes, Shit Happens

There are certain risks inherent in the life Lithus and I live. More for him, in his helicopter every day, than for me, but some that I share with him. Being on the road, or in the sky, as often as we are, sometimes, shit happens.

The flight from NOLA to Salt Lake this past weekend was...bumpy. My seat belt caught me on the upswing more than once. There were a couple diagonal drops. I wasn't scared ~ but I probably should have been, at least somewhat, in retrospect. 

Our pilots were seasoned professionals. All's well that ends well. Beverage service was even resumed. But it was a reminder: sometimes, shit happens.

Often, after someone has died in an accident, the response is "at least they died doing what they loved." I have never understood this and have always called bullshit. I promise you ~ the person didn't want to die in the climbing/skiing/sky diving/riding accident. They wanted to go right on living in order to do more of that thing they love. And I still believe that.

I also have a slightly different perspective after however many years on the road. Should shit happen ~ should I go down in a helicopter, or a plane, or off a logging road somewhere ~ will I have wanted to die? Oh hell no. But...But I love what I do. I love all the time spent traveling. Heading from one place to the next. Driving the roads that make you laugh and ask "Is this really a road, or are we breaking trail here?" Being on the small airplanes where they ask you your weight before loading, so they know they can take off. Long travel days that include two flights, a sketchy cab, and a long drive thrill me. And oh, being in Lithus' helicopter. I swear to you now, there is nothing ~ nothing ~ better than that.

At one point during the flight last weekend, after a particularly dramatic diagonal drop, I reached over and put my hand in Lithus' hand. Again, I wasn't scared. But I had realized, even if this went badly, I was where I wanted to be, with the person I wanted to be with. Right place, right person. It was a beautiful certainty in a moment of uncertainty.

And so, dear friends, should shit happen, rest easy. Know I died happy, doing what I love, with the man I love. 

(But I'm still planning on dying at 86 when I'm shot by a jealous wife, so don't worry too much about it...)

On Gravier Street

Every building in NOLA is historical. I've never seen so many plaques on so many buildings anywhere ~ and I lived in Boston. Usually, I do an almost subconscious scan of them and move on. Until one catches my eye...

Lithus

On most gigs, Lithus is out on the side of some mountain, or out in the bush, or even somewhere swampy ~ in other words, remote. Helicopters, after all, go places cars and people can't go easily, or at all. This past week, though, we got lucky. He was working right outside. Literally, just across the street.

It was so incredibly cool to just walk through the apartment complex and watch him do what he does.

But how close is he, really? He's this close. Note the window screen, because I'm standing in our living room.

He's inside the red squiggle

Halloween, NOLA Style

Although we were (are) on the road for Halloween itself, we were home on the 26th ~ the night New Orleans decided to celebrate the holiday in a big way. And because it's New Orleans, that means a parade. The Krewe of Boo rolled for the first time in a couple of years. (Note, the pictures aren't that good; next parade, I'm leaving my phone at home and just taking my camera.)

Voodoo Doll

See? Pins.

Just Keep On Living

Lithus and I are back in Richfield, Utah. On Tuesday night, after we got back into town, we went to the store. Picked up basic groceries, but also pumpkins for carving and cooking, a couple little decorations, ingredients for Samhain dinner, and candies to give out, just in case the apartments where we're staying had trick or treaters. As we were loading up the car, he said how much he appreciates that, no matter where we are, we keep living our lives. Nothing gets put on hold. Nothing gets put off. We shop and decorate and celebrate and live our lives ~ wherever we are.

I think that's part of what makes our lifestyle work. Sometimes our celebrations are less elaborate than they might be if we were at home (remember last year, when Halloween took place here?), but they always happen, regardless. We are masters at finding the one restaurant that is serving on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Our first date was over Thanksgiving, and we enjoyed quite a spread at the hotel in Suffolk, so this flexibility has always been a part of us. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, random Tuesdays...they all get acknowledged, in the moment, to the best of our abilities.

Life on the road is just that: life. Not life delayed or life interrupted or life postponed until a better time. Just...life.

Going Local

When Lithus and I first moved to NOLA, we talked about wanting to get out of the Quarter. Wanted to not only hang out in the CBD. Wanting to learn the city away from the tourist spots. But the Quarter is fascinating and so much happens there. And then it became comfortable. And "our" spots were in the Quarter and the CBD and the buses are inconsistent and unreliable and then we weren't home often and, and, and, and...and suddenly. we realized that we rarely stray beyond our little circle.

That just wouldn't do.

Last night, we discovered The All Ways Lounge. (Note: If you click around the site, it's NSFW. The pictures I'm about to post are slightly NSFW, depending on how picky your work is.) The Quarter and the CBD, it's not. It's not even Frenchmen Street. It's the All Ways Lounge.

The band opening the evening was Ford Theatre Reunion. They describe their music as "circus freak music." I describe them as heavy metal zydeco. Personally, I think either works. They are a little bit genius, and reminiscent of the Dresden Dolls, for those of you who know them. Crazy talented. With a lead singer who reminds me so much of Starbuck when we were 16, that I had to keep reminding myself that this young woman and I don't know each other and it would be weird for me to go hug her (Note: these are not our pictures, nor are they from last night. They are, however, of the group and the singer, so that's something).

They were a serendipitous delight, however, because we had gone to see Clue: A Burlesque Mystery. Seriously. The board game Clue, performed in burlesque. And it was burlesque, not a strip show.There was a juggler, who took off an article every time she "accidentally dropped" a ball or a knife. There was an aerialist. There was even a fan dance.

At the end, for curtain call, they lifted the "no photography" rule, but not the "no flash photography" part of it. Thus, the not-very-good pictures. But you'll get the idea...

There was even a dose of universal justice dished out. A couple was there, so much in costume that I originally thought they were part of the show. He in his modernized 1890's finery; she in her 1940's rockabilly hybrid. Everything was over the top. Nothing was genuine or authentic. Every expression and movement was studied and projected. They were gorgeous caricatures, just like the performers of the evening. And as I became aware of the fact that they weren't a part of the show, after all, I still thought they were cool. After all, I understand deciding who you are going to be for an evening and going with it. Until they showed themselves to be asses. Pouting. Disrespectful. Assholes. Just because the place got crowded and those of us at tables had to adjust in order to see the stage. Finally, she had had enough and, with great dramatic flair, tapped a man on the shoulder and demanded that he clear her entire field of vision. And her male counterpart laid hands on the poor guy who just wanted to bring his friends to a show. At that point, the sound tech/d.j./bouncer stepped in and you can guess who got thrown out. A good reminder to us all: Karma is enough of a bitch; don't be one.

It was a great night. Getting out of the Quarter is highly recommended.