Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Sumner Lake State Park, New Mexico: A Big Drink of Water

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

When I arrived in New Mexico in September 2012, it was in the grip of a long drought and still suffering the effects of some severe forest fires.

Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

The 2013 monsoon season in July and August brought deep gulps of water to some areas, but neglected others. As recently as early September, some lakes were still parched. (I haven't written yet about my visits to Storrie Lake, Santa Rosa Lake, or Conchas Lake in mid-August, but they were down to or near their minimum pool levels then.)

This changed in mid- and late September, when sheets of rain and flooding came.


Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico

When I visited Sumner Lake State Park the last weekend of September, it was fat with new water. A park ranger told me that the lake had risen 27 feet in the past week. Twenty-seven feet.


Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico


The liquid song of the lake drew me to crouch down and move my head closer in. Listen for it at :19 below. 






Sumner Lake State Park, near Fort Sumner, New Mexico






Monday, October 7, 2013

Karr Canyon, New Mexico: Reprise


Last October, I followed a scenic road sign through Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, off of Highway 82.

This September, my last month in New Mexico, I revisited the Karr Canyon drive. The trees weren't in their autumn dress, but the sunflowers were in radiant bloom, there was a mist lowering into the valley, and a cool rain fell.

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico

Karr Canyon, near High Rolls, New Mexico


Last October's post:

Cloudcroft, NM: Karr Canyon and the Mystery of Binoculars 58

Karr  Canyon, near Cloudcroft, New Mexico


AKA: New Mexico: Fall Colors, Part 3


After I emerged victorious from imaginary mountain lion attacks, I made my way back through High Rolls and headed to Cloudcroft proper. 

But almost as soon as I got onto Highway 82, I saw a sign with a graphic of binoculars and the number 58, pointing right.


58 Binoculars

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and why not? So I turned right onto Karr Canyon Road in search of what I presumed to be a scenic viewpoint a few hundred yards away.










The beginning held so much promise, with a spectacular vision of tall columns of leafy sunshine.












And after rounding some pleasant curves, I approached a postcard-beautiful meadow at the foot of the mountains, filled with multi-colored, waving grasses and shrubs in medieval-tapestry colors like claret, champagne, and ivory. Alas, I knew my camera was not going to be able to overcome the still-strong sunlight to recreate how gorgeous this scene was. It's worth returning to this area during a different time of day to try to capture it. In the meantime, this was the best I could do:



But where was this scenic view #58? I pushed on. I seemed to be climbing, and soon I entered a forest. Then yay! Another sign with the binoculars and the 58!

(What was the 58? The name of the road? The mile marker? The 58th scenic view in NM? I didn't know, but I was guessing a mile marker, but weren't the mile markers ascending rather than descending? I didn't know.) 

I kept going, even when the pavement stopped.

The forest pressed in closer. I passed an area with picnic tables and even a vault toilet structure. The road was pretty rough, and I kept climbing.

I saw a trio of deer over on the left, and they bounded away.

Occasionally, sun pushed through the dense canopy and I thought I might be cresting the mountain, where I'd arrive at the view.  But then I'd climb some more.

My wuss side kept talking to me about vehicle breakdowns, heavily-armed mountain-living survivalists, methheads, and I had no whistle to defend myself.

But I kept going.

Until. I realized, no, it was just too late in the day, this first day of not-daylight-savings time. So I turned around and came back, with a plan to find out what this 58 business was so I could visit it another day. I got to see the lovely yellow columns again on my way out.
















Sunday, October 6, 2013

Rootless Relocation: What I Left With


Here were all my worldly goods when I prepared to pack my car to leave Alamogordo on September 26:




Another view:



The white full-view mirror didn't make it into the car, and a neighbor harvested it for his use.The frame of the white storage drawer unit also didn't make it, but its drawers did. Other casualties included: bucket, broom/dustpan, mop, and plastic storage containers that I used as bowls.

The red item? It's a super fantastic fold-out chair-bed. And it fit into my car! Thank you to R. and M. for giving this to me.

That rectangular folding table propped against the wall - I'm so happy it still fit into my car for my next relo. I bought this for a dollar from friend J. when she moved from Jefferson City to Nashville. To say I bought it is really a sin - let's just say she gave it to me. I mean, really.

That green suitcase is carry-on size and it's been with me to Ethiopia, Caucasus Georgia, Turkey, New Mexico, and now on to Louisiana. The black and orange weekender - has been to all of the above plus Mexico, Chicago, and several road trips.

Goodbye, sweet apartment. A soothing space.
   

 

The future of my stuff

My current plan is to be outside the U.S. in January 2015. Thus, I'm thinking the year in Louisiana will be the year I enjoy my car for the last time, as I will likely sell it instead of storing it like I did when I was in Caucasus Georgia.

There are a couple of other items that I've held on to for various reasons, but I think it's time to let some go in the coming months.  






Saturday, October 5, 2013

New Mexico: Goodbye to Highway 54

As I drove north on Highway 54 for the last time in my year of New Mexico, I went through the same towns I passed through so many times in the past year:



As usual, I stopped at the Allsup's in Carrizozo at the intersection of Highways 54 and 380. In exchange for the use of the facilities, I bought my 25-cent banana. Kudos to c-stores that sell fresh fruit!

Antique store next to Allsup's, Carrizozo, New Mexico
 

As I whipped by Duran, I blinked acknowledgement at the green eyes.

Duran, New Mexico


I made another common stop for another bio break at the station in Corona, kind of in the middle of nowhere (but isn't so much of New Mexico in the middle of nowhere?), where I bought my customary can of Diet Coke for 85 cents. (Pity, no fresh fruit here. But the proprietors are as friendly as those in Carrizozo.)


Corona, New Mexico


Some time before Vaughn, I felt wistful at the sight and sound of a southbound train. New Mexico is so much about trains.


Highway 54 between Corona and Vaughn, New Mexico



 And how could I not turn around and appreciate this derelict on the plain?

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico

Highway 54 between Vaughn and Santa Rosa, New Mexico


The waving grass, the wind, prompted me to capture the moving version.




It still gives me pleasure to think I can get onto Highway 54 in Jefferson City, Missouri, and follow it through New Mexico, through Alamogordo - my home for one year - to El Paso, Texas.



Friday, October 4, 2013

Taiban, New Mexico: The Church



Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico

Church, Taiban, New Mexico



I passed this church on the way from Fort Sumner to Clovis. It made me turn around and take a closer look.

And I wasn't the only person it pulled into its sphere.

Who turns out to be the same person I encountered back here.



Thursday, October 3, 2013

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: The Vine, the Vine!



It was in Tularosa, in the spring, when I first noticed it. A long, spindly vine along the road. Its leaves were large and pointy at one end. It looked like a plant that would produce some sort of squash or melon.

On various occasions, I asked people about it. Did the plant produce anything? Most of the time the response was a verbal shrug, though one person allowed as how it might be a gourd...... (What is a gourd, really, other than a table centerpiece or a musical instrument?) .... was it edible? Another shrug.

All summer the vine remained a puzzle.

And into the fall.

Until the second to the last day of my year in New Mexico, on September 28, outside Fort Sumner.

On that day, it was revealed to me.  

Feral curcubita foetissima



And after some research, once seeing the yellow progeny, I've concluded it is known by any of these names: buffalo gourd, coyote gourd, or Missouri (!) gourd. But its best name comes from its Latin roots: stinking gourd.


Feral curcubita foetissima

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: Little Yellow Butterflies



On my penultimate day in New Mexico, on my way from Sumner Lake State Park to the Bosque Redondo Memorial, I drove through little yellow butterflies.




I couldn't get a decent video of the butterflies on the road, but they were also at Bosque Redondo. 

Never had I seen such a thing.

Credit: Wikicommons, Harrelson


I like what this writer had to say about the Little Yellow Butterflies: "My daddy used to say, 'When you see the Little Yellow Butterfly crossing the road, it means fall is on the way.'"

Driving through fluttering yellow butterflies along freshly-cut alfalfa fields on a glorious sunny day is a pretty special experience.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Parting Gifts from New Mexico: Tarantulas


"They're big. They're hairy. And it is the season for them to copulate."


On my last weekend in New Mexico, I received beautiful parting gifts. This is about one of them.

On Sunday, my very last day in New Mexico, as I drove from Ute Lake State Park to the Texas border, I saw eight tarantulas. Eight. Most of them on a 10-mile length of road.

The entire year in New Mexico to this point, I'd seen nine tarantulas. The entire year. And on this one day, I saw eight.


Tarantula on side of road, near Ute Lake State Park, New Mexico


Thank you, New Mexico.

(And I saw two more in Texas.)

So my New Mexico total: 17 tarantulas.

The quote at the top of the page is from this article about the ongoing mating season in New Mexico.


Tarantula. Credit: DesertUSA










Monday, September 30, 2013

New Mexico: The Sonic Boom Count


Being based in Alamogordo for my year in New Mexico, I heard a number of sonic booms.

Some were more exciting than others, the exciting ones making me jump and exclaim, "Holy shit!"

In all, I heard 46 sonic booms between September 25, 2012, and September 29, 2013, my last day in New Mexico.

The booms tended to come in spurts, thus I might hear a few one day and then none for several weeks. Then maybe one boom on one day and another on the following day.

Here is a re-post of what I wrote in October 2012:


BOOM!!

It startled the heck out of me, and then I remembered where I was, Alamogordo, which is only 10 miles from the Holloman Air Force Base and the White Sands Missile Range (Army). Right. Sonic boom. Cool.

BOOM!!

And a few moments later, again.

A video on sonic booms:  




Saturday, September 28, 2013

Three Years Ago Today: I went rootless


Missouri

September 28, 2010, the first blog entry.

I went rootless then, and that's when the speed of time changed.

Two years ago today, I was in Tsalaskuri, Georgia.

Tsalaskuri, Caucasus Georgia



A year ago today, I was just settling in to Alamogordo.


Today, I am en route from New Mexico to a sojourn in Missouri before settling into my new one-year home in Louisiana.

I'm a very lucky person.



Thursday, September 26, 2013

Louisiana: The Sea Below

I'm not in Louisiana yet - won't be til November, but this grabbed my attention

From the New York Times article, Ground Gives Way, and a Louisiana Town Struggles to Find Its Footing:

Much of Louisiana sits atop an ancient ocean whose salty remains, extruded upward by the merciless pressure of countless tons of rock, have formed at least 127 colossal underground pillars. Seven hundred feet beneath Bayou Corne, the Napoleonville salt dome stretches three miles long and a mile wide — and plunges perhaps 30,000 feet to the old ocean floor. 

A bevy of companies has long regarded the dome as more or less a gigantic piece of Tupperware, a handy place to store propane, butane and natural gas, and to make salt water for the area’s many chemical factories. Over the years, they have repeatedly punched into the dome, hollowing out 53 enormous caverns.



View Larger Map

More here and here and here.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Rootless Relocation: Departure Day Minus Two

Today:

  1. I am relieved - sold both of my beds just this morning! And just as importantly, they have been picked up. 
  2. Did laundry. 
  3. Put on the khaki trousers that I'll toss at the end of the day Friday. 
  4. Counted the eggs in the refrigerator and saw that I have precisely the quantity I need between now and my departure on Friday. 
  5. Combined my hand-wash laundry soap and my machine-wash laundry soap into one container. I'd hoped I would be emptying the contents of the larger bottle into the smaller bottle, instead of the reverse, but no.
  6. I think by the end of the day, I'll be able to empty the contents of my refill-size bottle of liquid hand soap into the smaller hand-soap dispenser. 
  7. Put items for donation into my car so I can deliver same tomorrow. 



Reflection

I'm liking the return to empty space in my apartment. Feeling it's the right decision that, next time, no "real" beds. (Wouldn't it be funny if I found a furnished place in Louisiana? I could live with that.)

Whenever I think about the perfect space for me, I think about the large square room in the Hotel Taitu in Addis Ababa. An Italian teacher lived in this room. There was no bathroom in his room, but there was a sink with running water. There was also a large wooden balcony, covered, where he had a big table with chairs. From the balcony, he overlooked the little cafe beneath mature trees, behind the hotel. High ceilings. Every day, he was able to descend a grand, wide, dark wood staircase to the elegant, albeit a little tired, lobby.

It turns out I still have my poster from the Yukon, a relic of the road trip my daughter and I took to Alaska one summer. Only now it is in a different frame; I removed it from the orange frame that had lost its glass, and discarded the frame. So where I arrived in New Mexico with three frames, I leave only with one, having sold the first some months ago.





Will everything fit in the car?

It's still a mystery.



Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Long Journeys: The River .... and a Sidebar on Journeywomen



Love Your Big Muddy

I love that this river adventurer is a woman, she's of a certain age, and she's a fellow Missourian. She lives 30 miles from my hometown.

Her precís (I've added the links):
My name is Janet Moreland. I am a Missouri River paddler from Columbia, MO, most often found at or near Cooper's Landing. I recently graduated from college with a degree in Education, and am now certified to teach middle school social studies and/or science. Currently, I am in the midst of a 3700-mile Source-to-Sea solo kayak expedition from the Missouri River source at Brower's Spring, Montana, to the Gulf of Mexico. I left Columbia on April 14, 2013, and anticipate a November completion. My mission includes elements of education, environmental stewardship, and empowering youth, women, and men to confidently pursue their dreams.

Here is a podcast interview with Ms. Moreland at The Pursuit Zone.


Fear

In her post here, Ms. Moreland talks about times recently when she felt fear. It was good to see how she felt it and what she did about it. [The bold and underlining are mine.] 

On a treacherous lake crossing that she'd received numerous warnings about, she wrote in her journal: “I need to stop wondering if I’m making the right decision and just trust my judgment. I can SO do this!”

At one campsite where she worried about mountain lions, she reported: " .... That very night, after I was zipped up in my tent, some animal made a loud noise right around dusk just outside my tent. Holy mackerel! It was a honk, cough, yell, growl, screech, or something, I don’t know what.  “Stay calm,” I told myself. “What do you need to do to survive?”  I took the safety off of my bear spray, got my buck knife out, grabbed my machete, and put my whistle around my neck.  I was hoping it was not a mountain lion. ..... "

During a nasty electrical storm: " .... I couldn’t help but think I had just inserted into the ground a lighting rod, which seemed to be the high point on shore, and right outside my shelter.  Oh well, there was nothing more I could do.  I had to wait out the storm, and I did it squatting with only my feet touching ground and my hand on my SPOT “SOS” button.  I thought if lightning struck me, my reflex would press the button....." 

How Ms. Moreland's handled her fear reminded me of two other women who undertook long journeys:

This hilarious telling of Molly Langmuir's four-day solo hike in the Tetons, where she was terrified of encountering a bear. My favorite bit:
On a scale of one to 10, how much fun did you have?
I'm actually not sure I had any fun. The trip was challenging, which I always like, and now that I'm through it, something I'm glad I did, but I basically spent the entire time in a state of sheer terror, so there wasn't much room for fun. I guess a one?


And the book, Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. She told herself that she did not fear mountain lions, bears, or rattlesnakes. That this was necessary for her to be able to embark on the hike. If she'd allowed herself to consider fear, then she couldn't have gone.


But here's the sidebar on journeywomen

There's a lot of debate in the news right now about banning the niqab in some places or not banning, and about imperialist countries imposing their cultural shoulds on other cultures, that a culture will stick up for itself, thank you very much, and so on.

The other day, when I went to the Alamogordo Balloon Invitational by myself, without asking the permission of a brother or father or uncle or husband or son, having driven to the event by myself, in a car that I alone own, and walked around the event unescorted, I appreciated - yet again - how lucky I am that I have the choice to do all of the things I just listed.

When I think about Ms. Moreland, or Ms. Strayed, or Ms. Longmuir's journeys, it is with appreciation that these women have the choice to do such things.

"Such things" including the fundamental human right to use our intelligence and talents to their fullest, without religious, cultural, or other restriction imposed on us because we are women.

This right is called self-determination: the determination of one's own fate or course of action without compulsion; free will.

So while the debate goes on, I'd like this basic tenet not to be lost.


When I'm feeling exasperated about the latest indignity done to women somewhere - control dressed up in the guise of culture - I like to play this video.




Some might consider it a metaphorical middle finger. 


Monday, September 23, 2013

Alamogordo: Balloon Invitational


Alamogordo Balloon Invitational 2013, New Mexico


The Alamogordo Balloon Invitational was a good almost-last hurrah for my time in New Mexico.


Alamogordo Balloon Invitational 2013, New Mexico



It was as if the balloons were being hatched and delivered unto the sky like a flock of tropical birds.



Alamogordo Balloon Invitational 2013, New Mexico


I like when we humans create beauty.


Fly away pretty bird:






A slide show:

#30

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Highways 54 & 3, New Mexico: Duran Green Eyes


Highways 54 and 3, Duran, New Mexico



I have passed this building so many times in my lopes up and around New Mexico this year.  These eyes. One of the most striking features of the village of Duran.

I didn't know the history of the building or the town until I read this: The Last Hanging Crime: Duran, New Mexico. Well told.

Yet another reminder of how we sometimes pass by a spot in the universe that practically shimmers with the ectoplasmic echoes of personal histories - dramas that were so cataclysmic for those involved - but of which we are unaware. 


Saturday, September 21, 2013

Columbus, New Mexico, Part 11: School Kids

On the left, Mexico. On the right, U.S. Look at that --> same sky is over both.

I didn't envision a Part 11 for Columbus, New Mexico. Hell, I didn't think there'd be a Part 2 when I first arrived at this dusty little town.

But the Washington Post published a thoughtful article today about the kids from across the border who attend school in Columbus: Children Cross Mexican Border to Receive a US Education.

In my view, this is a good investment for the local, regional, state(s), and our bi-national futures. The children grow up to be adults and likely will live in the U.S. - we need adults who are well-educated and who will be self-sufficient, productive members of our society.


Friday, September 20, 2013

Highway 3, New Mexico: Thump, Thump


Highway 3, New Mexico


I was driving down Highway 3 from Interstate 25 toward Duran.

I wasn't all that far from Villanueva when I heard a soft thump on my car's underbelly. Noted it and didn't think too much about it. But then there it was again. .

I glanced in my rearview mirror for a clue, but saw nothing.

But then as I looked more closely on the road ahead, I saw it. Saw them.



Grasshoppers, lots of 'em.

Hahahahaha! 

Reminded me of that year when my daughter was in a play in Arrow Rock, Missouri. We spent a lot of time on the road between Jefferson City and Arrow Rock. There was a lot of rain that year, and as rehearsals and then performances proceeded, we began to see long stretches of road with squashed frogs on them. Turtle refugees crawling across the asphalt. Streams rising. All of which were omens of the 1993 flood that followed. 





Thursday, September 19, 2013

New Mexico: Prisons Revisited


Back here, I talked about the book, The Devil's Butcher Shop: The Story of the 1980 Prison Revolt.

The old prison

When I found myself in Santa Fe recently, I drove out to see the old prison.

I had mixed feelings about doing this, as I do generally about the practice of visiting sites where extreme violence occurred. Like elephants that pick up and handle the bones of their fallen comrades, are we human animals instinctively drawn to such places? Do we cover morbid fascination with stuff about "learning" or "never again" or "honoring the victims"? I don't know. Perhaps it depends on the visitor's perspective: Do I have a familial connection with this violent locale or am I - pretty it up as much as you like - a death tourist? 

At any rate, I went out there. Entrance is through a guarded gate, because the entrance to the old prison is also the entrance to a new prison. So I didn't get up close, but I did have a congenial conversation with the pleasant corrections officer at the gate.

He hasn't read the book, but he regularly sees would-be visitors to the old prison who have. Can't remember - was it four per week or four per day?

The officer noted that New Mexico learned from its mistakes back then and that such a revolt couldn't happen today, and he provided some examples of how carefully inmates are separated from each other and from the ability to harm guards. He also noted that the officers receive extensive training these days, something which didn't occur in the past.

My first impression of the officer is that he likes his job and feels proud of what he does. From an organizational development perspective, these qualities suggest a healthy organization (or at least a healthy team within the larger system).

Also, he did not engage in any macho bullshit a la the sheriff in Arizona, which suggests to me that perhaps there have been substantive improvements. I also liked how he didn't get even the slightest bit defensive during our conversation. In fact, he was curious about why I thought this way or that.

Don't know if this corrections officer is a jerk at home or in other places, but with the public, i.e. me, he is a positive representative of New Mexico's prison system. Kudos.  




Prisons in New Mexico today

In that original post about the 1980 revolt, I wondered how the prison system in New Mexico today had improved from back then.

Notwithstanding the opinion of the corrections officer I talked to in Santa Fe, it seems that not all lessons have been learned.

Today, news about a lawsuit settlement: New Mexico Settles With Prisoners Made to Straddle Each Other.  This settlement will cost New Mexico taxpayers $750,000. The article refers to another lawsuit in which Dona Ana County agreed to pay $15.5 MILLION for its treatment of an inmate in the county jail.

I'm hopeful that at some point we will realize that good prison management -which includes humane treatment of inmates (and corrections officers) - is economical in the long run:
  • Save taxpayers money lost to corruption (diversion of products/services intended for the prisons); 
  • Save taxpayers money lost to lawsuits for negligence and mistreatment of inmates; 
  • After serving their terms, return to society inmates who haven't been stripped of their humanity or ability to be self-supporting contributors to society; and
  • Prevent the ill effects on corrections officers (and their families) of systemic abuses that they witness - or participate in - toward inmates. 

And I think there is a separate hell for those good citizens who fervently beseech inmates to rape sex-crime convicts within prison. For one, the implicit tolerance for prison rape as a norm deserves reflection. Second, it is beyond me why someone would want to inflict that kind of karma on another human being - unless someone believes his proxy-rapist isn't really human anyway. Third, this kind of exhortation gives tacit approval to corrections officers for abusive treatment toward prisoners in general.

Standards

I don't necessarily agree with all of the points that these sources espouse, but I offer them for thought:

Partners for Safety and Justice

A Human Rights Approach to Prison Management

American Bar Association: Standards on Treatment of Prisoners

A Christian ministry: Justice & Mercy: Shedding Light on the Issues










Monday, September 16, 2013

Rootless Relocation: Lessons Learned About Furnishing Temporary Home


Most of the stuff I brought with me to Alamogordo



I'll be moving again at the end of this month and all my stuff has to fit in my car.

I've got to dispose of some things:
  • I accumulated while in New Mexico; 
  • I brought with me from Missouri that I no longer need; and
  • That I could still use, but have to unload because there are two large items from NM that I will take with me. 

Lessons learned

Now that the process of furnishing and un-furnishing my temporary home is almost complete, I've learned some things.

Beds

Although I think my nursing-home beds are cool, they're kind of a pain to sell. Remember that airbed I liked so much? It lasted me six months of almost-daily use and it only cost about $35. It takes standard-size sheets and it is almost as tall as a real bed. And it's comfortable. In my new place, I believe I'll buy another one. If it goes kablooey in six months, then I'll just replace it. Taking into account price, portability, and labor to hunt/find/discard a real bed, the air bed is the more economical choice.

For a guest bed, a local friend gave me this very cool, dark red, accordion-like chair that makes into a twin bed. Somehow I will fit this into my car and I'll use it in my new place for a living room chair and guest bed.

At the point I have two guests at once, I'll get a second air bed. Ta da.



Table and chairs

These are easy to find, cheap to buy, and easy to re-sell.  No problems here.



Plants/pots

I liked having my tiny herb garden and flowers in three pots. These were easy to sell, and I will likely have another little container garden again if I've got outdoor space in my new home.



Bird feeder and shepherd's crook

I bought these here in Alamogordo. I won't do this again. Although I loved watching the visiting birds while I worked, birdseed is damned expensive. I've discovered that the after-market for bird feeders and shepherd's crooks is very poor, taking too long to sell them for an abysmal price. Also, feeding the birds is really all about my entertainment; it doesn't necessarily do any good for the birds. I might as well be feeding feral cats.



The volume of space

As my apartment empties, I appreciate again the volume of space, the lack of stuff. I was very circumspect about the visual bulk I added to my apartment here, so there's not a whole lot I can do to better that in my new place. The beds are one, and if I have a breakfast counter, I won't need a table.

I'm not much of an in-home entertainer, so I don't worry about guest seating - that's what cafés are for.



Relocation cost

This is what it cost me to relocate from Missouri to New Mexico last year. The total was ~ $2070, of which $950 was for the first and last month's rent. So now that I've consumed those two months as the cost of living, the net relocation cost $1120.

I don't know yet how much I'll recoup in the resale of stuff before I go. I'll factor that in when I calculate my next relocation costs.

There'll be some economy of scale, as I will bring the vacuum cleaner I bought in Alamogordo with me, along with the accordian chair-bed, and a desk lamp. Plus the printer and scanner.

(In regard to doing things differently for the actual moving process, I think my process was as tight a ship as it could have been.)


On buying new versus second-hand

I thought I'd buy more things second-hand in Alamogordo than I did. And certainly there is no dearth of second-hand stores in Alamogordo. However, I hate to shop, and I found it to be not-fun to schlep from one second-hand shop to another in search of what I needed. The opportunity costs in time, gas, and things I could have been doing that were more fun became too high for some items. 

My preference is still to buy second-hand, so maybe before I go to Lafayette, I'll try to identify the largest and best second-hand place for household goods in that area.


On apartment choices

This is a little outside the focus on furnishing a place, but:

Upstairs or downstairs. Boy, am I glad I listened to the apartment manager when he steered me to a ground-floor apartment instead of the second-floor place I said I preferred. Ch-ching. He told me it would cost less to cool my place in the summer if I were on the ground floor. And this has proven to be the case, as my upstairs neighbors and I have compared our energy bills.

This will be doubly true in Louisiana, where it's got the double whammy of heat and humidity. (On the other hand, I've got a hankering for a place in the midst of the city, so in that case, I'd prefer something above street level. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)

Amount of space. At 832 square feet, I have more space than I need. I've had visitors, but most of my time here, I haven't. A dedicated space for guests, i.e. a 2nd bedroom (or the den I have here), isn't essential.