Happy New Year!

The past two years my new year's resolutions have been pretty resounding successes. 2007- I baked all my own bread. I started the year relying on baking powder biscuits, but by the end I had successful sourdough, hearty-whole wheat, bagels, flatbreads, and baguette. In 2008 I bought bread again (it's hard to bake in the backcountry on a campstove) but decided to dedicate more time to reading for fun and find gainful employment. I'd consider it mostly a success on both counts. This year, however, I'm considering resolving too many things that require too much time.

Resolutions: Spend more time writing, more time climbing, actually go to the pool and swim occasionally, be stronger, be faster, be braver, no cavities, help my ankles finally heal, save money for retirement and grand travel plans, figure out where I might want to go for grad school, make new friends, keep the old, send more letters.

Resolutions are a tricky thing- new year, new leaf, we all hold such high expectations for a few shiny weeks before we settle back into another year. I had lunch with friends last week when the subject turned to resolutions. One is vowing to have no boyfriends this year, the other, vows to lower her bad cholesterol. I'm not sure I'd feel attached to either goal, but I'm jealous that they simplified their lists. Mine still needs some work. I already cut plenty. But it's a big, brand new year before us, so I'll see what I can do. Whatever you've decided to do this year, good luck and happy new year!!

Bringing in the Babies

Clarissa told me recently that I would be a good midwife. More specifically, she explained that if she ever found herself going into labor on a remote, deserted island for some unfathomable reason, I would be the person she'd like to have on hand. "You'd be totally competent with the blood and the umbilical cutting and all that, but you'd also say all the right things so I'd believe that everything was going to be okay."

I take that as a pretty serious compliment. Maybe the nicest thing she's ever said to me. Or a close second to the time she told me, completely in shock, that I had done a good job of choosing a new pair of jeans. But the point is that I was totally flattered by her trust in my as-yet untested baby-delivering abilities.

Then today Netflix had the impeccable timing to deliver me a documentary about delivering babies- The Business of Being Born. I think that this might be a sign. Career-change? Impending pregnant friend stranded and in need of my help? Netflix listening in on my phone calls? Definitely some kind of sign.

More importantly, it was a really fascinating documentary. It was made by Ricki Lake after her first birth, at a hospital, raised a lot of questions for her. Here in the United States, we have the most expensive births of any developed country and the highest rate of mortality in delivery for mothers and babies of the major developed nations. One in three babies is delivered via Cesarean section. Hospitals, trying to be efficient and not get sued, use all kinds of chemicals to encourage contractions, discourage pain, and hurry women into surgery.

The main premise of the film is that the medical profession, by blacklisting midwives and creating a culture of fear around birth as a health emergency, is taking away from women the ability to be truly present and in control of giving birth. That in our society- delivering a baby is not something mothers do anymore, it is something done to them. Further, the film argues, that this loss of agency in birth is an injustice; depriving mothers of an incredible emotional and physical experience and creating an unnecessarily expensive and dangerous hospital based procedure from a natural event.

It makes a pretty clear feminist statement, really, that we should trust women's bodies to give birth to babies. They have obviously evolved to do so. For money and power, we have taken something simple and natural, and made it complicated and often, more dangerous. Having a baby doesn't need to be treated like having an illness. The midwives and natural birth advocates featured in the film made the alternative, a return to more natural births, sound safe, smart, and even possible.

To it's credit, this documentary does not pretend that all births are easy and complication free. One woman had to abandon plans for a home birth for an emergency Cesarean during premature labor, but her midwife was prepared to use that option and knew when to make the call. Overall, however, statistics show that natural births with trained midwives have a higher success rate for healthy mothers and babies than hospital deliveries. Most OB/GYNs interviewed in the film admitted that they had never or hardly ever seen or assisted with a natural birth- it's that foreign of a concept in the medical world.

Unfortunately, in our increasingly complicated world of health and malpractice insurance, it's hard for many midwives and natural birthing centers to stay profitable. Even though a midwife-assisted natural birth is much more economical, the powers that be are actively resisting a shift in their status quo. One midwife pointed out that natural birth needs more press, more media attention, Angelina Jolie giving birth in her bathtub stories in the news, instead of the recent celebrity stories of elective, scheduled Cesarean. I am already convinced to try and plan for a natural birth, even without Angelina Jolie on board. Not that there are any babies on the near horizon in my life, but I certainly am better prepared to think about the situation someday.

Anti-Grass Campaign

When my mom called yesterday, she told me she had recently seen a photo of Lake Mead in National Geographic- although it was less lake and more mudflats in the photo. A lake, captured on film, draining away. Obviously, she was worried. And then confused, when i complained to her that I hated wednesday mornings because all of the sprinklers are on in my complex, and I often get a little shower as I bike to work.

That's right- in southern Nevada we still water our grass. Our primary water source, the dammed up Colorado river, only has a 10 year supply left, at current use levels. 10 years. That's not even screwing over our children or grandchildren- that's screwing the very near future. Yet drive around Boulder City and you see gleaming green lawns. Drive downtown, where they take excess quite seriously, and you'll find fountains. Huge, dancing, illuminated fountains. Take that desert habitat- we showed you!

Except that mother nature really doesn't appreciate being given the finger. The few people who bothered to consider the rapidly approaching consequences of draining the lake have realized that we need to act. So- the Southern Nevada Water Authority is planning to steal the groundwater of sparsely populated counties to the north. Although actively being protested by the 10 or so people who live in Lincoln and White Pine Counties, Vegas isn't likely to give up easily. For this city's survival- that water is worth a lot of money.

In the Vegas area, you can get up to a $4,000 tax credit if you replace your grass with natural, desert landscaping. But people aren't doing it. These desert lawns could be the death of this mirage of a city. Think about it- what are our two most precious resources as our planet hurtles into ever-increasing industrialization? Fossil fuels and water. And we're running out of both in many parts of the world. We waste our water to make grass grow in the desert. Then, we fill lawn mowers with gasoline and cut down the grass! And then we repeat the process. Weekly. History is going to judge us pretty harshly for that one. I even like grass- a good field at the park- for a good game of ultimate- is a pretty fantastic luxury. But no one even thinks about the grass around my apartments- no one plays on it, sits around and admires it, nothing.

Our suburban love affair with the manicured lawn isn't the only way that water and fossil fuels are linked. In fact, a recent article in Scientific American called upon researchers who study environmental issues to start thinking of both shortages as one major problem. Let's start with water- fresh water. We need it to survive. But to make more of it with desalination plants or to ship it to where we need it requires tons of energy- currently from fossil fuels. On the other hand- to get energy without fossil fuels- nuclear reactors, hydroelectric dams, hydrogen fuel cells, ethanol- all required tons of fresh water. Until we start converting solar energy into electricity with an atmospheric network of solar panels- we're stuck with water and energy shortages tangled up together.

So let's pull this one easy strand free from the mess. End the grass cycle. We can have cactus and creosote, rock gardens and spiny shrubs of all shapes and sizes. And maybe some grass at the park.

Sisters and Soup

It might not feel like fall around here yet (or ever) but with Thanksgiving rapidly approaching, I have begun eating like it's fall. And fall food is great- in season squashes and pumpkins turn into gnocchi and risotto and obviously pie, just to get me started. The big cans of pumpkin are on sale at my grocery store, and I had used half for my favorite, beautifully orange cornbread. I had big plans for lunch on sunday with the other half- super fast pumpkin soup.

Then, just before I started cooking, my sister, Emily, called. We talked about our usual favorites, frisbee and family and friends, but our conversation, as it frequently does, finished up on food. We love food. It's like a religion in our family, that's why Thanksgiving is such a great holiday. Emily and I love to get together to window-shop at grocery stores and farmer's markets and talk about food. So Sunday, I wasn't surprised that she was excited to tell me about the great recipe she had just put together a few days earlier. I was slightly surprised, however, when her brilliant discovery turned out to be quick pumpkin soup!

Great minds do think alike. Pumpkins (and other fall squash relatives like Butternut and Acorn) are perfect fall foods. They are in season, often locally grown, fresh, and they keep well without refrigeration. The Produce Bible, a cookbook gift from my mother (I told you food was as close as my family gets to religion, right?) refers to winter squash and the most versatile of all vegetable. Which is saying a lot for a book dedicated to the versatility of vegetables. Sweet, savory, soup, sauce, or stand-alone, squash can do it all. The beautiful orange color of the flesh is from the cartenoids, which are a powerful antioxidant. Winter squashes are also high in lutein and zeaxanthin, which are all also antioxidants, as well as more easily pronounced vitamins like C, iron, zinc. High in fiber, pumpkin is filling as well as nutritious and delicious. (It rhymes, i couldn't resist, sorry). If you're starting with an entire squash, you can clean and roast the seeds, which are packed with protein. If you are too lazy to cut and peel and roast (or boil in soup) fresh pumpkin, there is a sale or large display of canned, pre-pureed pumpkin at a grocery near you this week, guaranteed.

So how did my soup turn out? Fantastic. Emily's was spicier (she likes it hot) and served once as soup, and once, spiced with curry, over rice. I stole the curry flavor, but served mine with sweet corn stirred in and a side of homemade bread. My recipe is ready to eat in only about 15 minutes. Saute onions and garlic. Pour on half a quart of vegetable stock (leftover, in my case, from last week's spinach and lentil soup) and stir in the canned pumpkin. Add some frozen sweet corn. Consistency should be thickish. Season with salt, pepper, ginger, curry, and garam masala if you've got it. Once it's all hot, it's ready. Simple, seasonal, and sister-endorsed.

Concertina Climbing

I scrambled to the top of the park's Black Mesa at work this morning. With super-steep slopes and a broad, flat top, this black formation juts out of the lake shore landscape, imposing enough to entice the soil surveyors to describe the unique soil type on top. And, wherever the soil scientists went, Teague and I must follow and count the plants in their wake.

But the soil is not the point. The point is that on the broad, kansas-style flat summit that rewarded our strenuous, rocky climb, we met a snake. We chased him around for a bit, trying to make introductions and take pictures, but he wasn't having it. It is my botanist's opinion (armed with field guide) that it was a Racer, Coluber constrictor. He was fast, anyway. But, more importantly, he was on top of this mesa. We barely made the climb, how the hell did he?

My first theory was that he had wiggled free from the talons of a raptor flying above the mesa, but he seemed too....intact....to have survived such an adventure. So he must have climbed. Or his mother did, at least. Now, I know that snakes live in the mountains, I've seen my share of rock-dwelling rattlers this summer. I also know that snakes can climb trees, I've seen the hognose snakes in Virginia (Heterodon platirhinos), short, fat, pugnacious fellows that sun in the tree branches alongside the creeks. They are hard to miss, because if you startle them, paddling past in your canoe, minding your business, they may jump in to join you, and not sociably.

But how do snakes climb up mountains? The answer is known the herpetologists and perhaps their friends, is called Concertina movement. As opposed to the traditional snake motion, the aptly named serpentine glide, and it's sandy variation, sidewinding, concertina allows the snake move vertically. She stretches her head up as high as she can, and slides it into a position where her ventral scales can grip on the surface. To enhance her grip, she pulls her midsection up tightly, to wind a lot of scale-surface area onto the rocks. Then, she uses this firm grip to pull up her lower body, and lastly springs her head upward again, looking for her next, higher hold.

Sounds like a tedious process, but it also sounds a lot like how I climbed the Black Mesa. One good move at a time, at least in the steepest parts. Snakes, despite their lack of limbs, are actually showoffs in the range of motion category. They can slide, swim, climb, and in fact, fly. Well, to be totally honest, they only glide. But several species in southeast asia are known for jumping out of trees and flattening out their ribcages to hold onto a draft as they serpentine-squiggle through the air. Apparently they have adapted to get pretty far with this technique. Maybe my racer didn't even need to climb?

Nesting

I have unpacked my car. Completely. People could sit in the backseat. Comfortably. After 8 months of being half-packed/half living out of the car, it is incredible to be moved out of the Honda. However, I am struggling to deal with the new sensation of driving somewhere and not having something I need in the car, forgetting that I left it at home.

That's right- I have a home. I have a roommate, Amorita, who is awesome, but works an 8-6 schedule for the Parks Service, so I will often have the place to myself. She has been living in her Subaru recently, so we understand each other well. Also, now I have a friend with 4-wheel drive! We have two bedrooms, with excellently comfy carpet, which is fantastic since I am sleeping on the floor, two bathrooms, a nice kitchen, and a living room. It's a lot of space for two girls with no furniture. I'm already feeling settled in my bedroom, the maps are up, the music is on...

I spent a few hours on saturday morning garage sale hopping, where I managed to equip my kitchen for less than $10. I am in love with my 25 cent toaster and my 50 cent coffee pot. Mmmm breakfast. Several of my coworkers have generously loaned me their unneeded furniture, so I've recently inherited a dining table and a futon mattress that i need to go pick up. We've got camp chairs, homemade art, and the spider plant, besides, so frankly, I think we're pretty pleased with ourselves.

I'm living right in
View Larger Map'>Boulder City, NV which is right next to the the park where I am working (Lake Mead National Rec Area) so that I am just a quick bike ride to work. Except that my bike is in the shop this week, with a stretched chain and a bent rear axle, but next week it will be a short ride to work. It's a nice town, calm and quaint, the only town in Nevada without gambling and a moratorium on growth. A 10 minute drive through the pass and you reach Vegas' suburban sprawl. It's nice to be separated from the city by the mountains, but it's easy to get there for frisbee games, rei, barnes and noble, trader joes, and obviously, high-class prostitutes.

Although Lake Mead (the reservoir above the Hoover Dam) is kind of gross, surrounded by invasive salt ceder and filling up with silt, the upland around it is beautiful, and increasing in area daily as Vegas sucks down it's only water supply. My job is mainly to drive and hike around the park, establishing long term vegetation monitoring plots, sometimes low on the rolling gypsum hills, sometimes high in the pinyon pine and juniper mountains, and everywhere in between. There's tons of great backcountry to play in, without the rules, permits, or crowds of people that most of the National Parks have. Beyond the park, there's great mountains calling from just a short (by western standards) drive in any direction. So, I'm pretty excited to be settling in for the winter. So many great places to play, and a shower to come home to. I am spoiled rotten. You should come visit- there's plenty of space on my new floor!!

(Friends from ENLC, Brett, Keith, and Joanna enjoying an afternoon hike at Lake Mead)

Election Day

As known as, Come On Ohio, Don't Fuck this Up Again Day

I'm nervous. I'm not special. Everyone is holding their breath, crossing their fingers, drinking beer and watching the news waiting for the right results to come in. Every state I've lived in recently seems to have a knack for election drama- the famous swing states and democratic disaster, Ohio and Florida, are maybe trying to make amends this year. Virginia, solid, almost southern Virginia, might even be a swing state this year. And here in NV, well, it's interesting. I met two men on Mt. Wheeler who told me that even their black neighboor told them that electing Obama would be the worst thing this country could do because they'd never be able to trust another black man again. The neighboorhood here, sign-wise, is pretty even. I've met a surprising number of liberals too. In fact, parked next to me at the library, at this very minute, is a truck with not one but two "Republicans for Obama" sticker. Hope.