It’s a couple of days late, but I just realized it’s a 9-month-anniversary. I’ve been on the road for a solid nine months.

Nine months goes by rather quickly. Here goes - - -> I arrived to DC from BRC (and if you know what that is, you know how 100% different the two are ) on 9/9/07; and on to NYC; Boston; ABQ; Chicago; and then back home to Venice. I stayed in Venice for a few weeks, went to Northern California, then back to Venice, then on to Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee. From there I stayed in Venice a few more days and then again onward to the Seattle area and from there straight to Albuquerque again and then Santa Fe and now . . . South Carolina.

Whoosh! It doesn’t stop here. Oh no! I’m only here for a couple more weeks and then Whoosh! again . . .

For the past month, I’ve been driving one hour each way every day from ABQ to Santa Fe and then on top of that working a twelve hour day. That didn’t leave much for doing anything except going to Starbucks every morning, high-tailing it to Santa Fe, working and coming home. It even hurt to stop and get gas . . . . which of course, I had to do quite often.

I noticed the beautiful countryside of the high desert on some days, but most days I was just inside my own head, hoping to get to work on time, dealing with lack of sleep or feeling a little miffed that I didn’t have any time to do any real life stuff. The beauty was surrounding me, but I never could be in the moment and actually enjoy it.

I will be going back to ABQ and most likely to Santa Fe as well at some point and I will enjoy all that the wide sweeping vistas of New Mexico have to offer. But for now, as I told myself while I was zooming away the hours on the freeway between ABQ and Santa Fe, constantly scanning for the numerous police cruisers that frequent the area, I am going to enjoy the lesson that my month long drive time taught me - - I have two whole hours of my life back every day!

Am I going to be working long hours in South Carolina? You bet your sweet shugar ass I will be. But the perspective on suddenly having two extra hours every day to do . . . well, whatever I want is not lost on me now. It is a gift.

I don’t want to jinx myself by proclaiming out loud what I will do with my new found time, but let’s just say that the results will show, besides I’m still figuring out the ‘what’ part. Case in point - I slept in this morning . . . . a needed and quite necessary use of that precious time.

Ah have arrived, my shugahs. 

And aside from the taxi cab ride to my hotel and the ritual of hanging of christmas lights in my hotel suite . . . I have done not a damn thing except acquire frizzy hair and view some magnolia blossoms. All these things make me very happy.

Frank was EXceptionally good on the two plane rides, shuttle van ride, taxi cab ride and short subway jaunt it took to get here . . . nary a meow.

He’s not even holed himself up underneath the hotel bed yet . . . a new one for him . . . I think he’s getting the hang of this whole travel thing . . . but you can see for yourself . . . he’s become a blogger too . . . I was a bit afraid that the TSA might try to confiscate his catnip lined scratch pad as some kind of contraband, but that didn’t happen. There would have been some clawz flyin’!

I’m going to be gone (?) two weeks, three weeks or possibly one month or more. I’m going to the humid lands of South Carolina in the late springtime. I’ve done my research and packed accordingly. I’ve traded heavy coats for my cute little dress collection.  I’m going to be working in an office for a couple of weeks. Then I’m headed to a huge camping event outside of Austin where we’re going to burn stuff and get kind of crazy. All within these next few weeks.

All before I come back - ahem - home. Err, well, that is to my (haha) Albuquerque storage unit and my car which I’m going to stash at the airport.

I have to pack for both. So I’ve done it . . . I’m traveling light and I’m traveling strange. This is a new one.

Among the standard fare like toothbrush and undies, I’m also bringing my roller skates, a cat litter box, camping tent, an alphabetizer and an array of sparkly stuff. I think that says it all. But every swath of strangeness fits snugly and conveniently into one rolling duffle and one box. 

The last couple of weeks have been a bit unstable. I knew I was moving, but wasn’t sure where or when or how . . . . my roommate and I finagled our way out of our lease, so whoo-hoo! I’m free to roam again . . . and that’s exactly what I’m going to do . . .

Sunday morning, Frank, the cat and myself will fly from ABQ to Columbia, South Carolina for a short bit of work. It’s going to be seat of the pants living at it’s best. We will be living in another fine hotel and may stay two weeks, maybe four and I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing or where I’m going after South Carolina. My stuff goes into storage in ABQ tomorrow and the car gets parked at the airport and I am done thinking about it all for a bit.

My granny’s 90th birthday party is in July, so until July, I’m not so worried about being in any specific place at any certain time. I’ve got lots of options, but as life has recently taught me - I have no idea what will pop up - and that’s OK - even exciting. Maybe Frank and I will kick it in Santa Fe for June, maybe Chicago, maybe LA, maybe Peru (ok, Frank can’t go to Peru). . . . maybe a shack in a redwood forest. Who knows?

I’m sad to be saying good-bye to G-unit so soon, but it’s time to move on . . . do what I do best. . . be an artist adventurer . . . keep livin’ the moments.

I have a confession.

Over the years, I’ve acquired the habit of compulsively listening to certain music while driving my car. I’m like the mini-bus driver in a Latin American locale, going for months sometimes, spinning that one CD over and over and over again. I let it roll on like that til I tire of it, but sometimes it takes months to get to that point.

The current compulsion is Paul Simon’s Rhythm of The Saints. I drive one hour each way every day from ABQ to Santa Fe and still I allow it to play. And still I sing along wholeheartedly, gleefully and loudly. It’s been two months and I’m still not tired of it. It’s like hypnotizing myself with good jungle vibes.

Other artists on my compulsive music listening list are: Lyle Lovett, Prince, Beck, Calexico and Devandra Banhart. I notice these are all male artists and I don’t really know what’s up with that.

Anyway, my question for you all out there is - what music do you  compulsively and (happily) listen to?

The first time I drove into Santa Fe was last week. I noticed work crews of prisoners in orange jumpsuits picking up trash by the city roadside, in a heavy traffic area. A city bus pulled away from the corner, revealing more orange-clad workers, trash bags in hand, bending over.  And then all of a sudden, it was like slow motion. I watched one of the guys stumble and try to catch himself, but he just kept falling. I actually had time to think, “Oh my god, I think that guy’s gonna fall in the street!”

And then that is exactly what happened. I watched the guy fall - right into the busy six-lane divided highway - right in front of my car. Only thankfully he was up the street nearly a block, so by the time I approached, he’d already scrambled back up to the sidewalk.

It reminds me of the time I was riding my bike in Chicago under the Fullerton street exit off of I-95 . It was about 10PM. I was on a neighborhood street that sort of branched off from the on-ramp. I had to ride past the on-ramp entrance to continue down the street. And for some unknown reason, just as I rode across the on-ramp, I busted HARD and fast on my bike, a rarity for me.

The side of my face was all of a sudden lying flat on the smooth, oily pavement of the busy Interstate on-ramp and the wind was knocked out of me.  I actually had enough time to think to myself, “Holy Shit! I’m lucky that there are no cars coming at this moment!” before scrambling up and picking up my bicycle and getting the hell out of that busy thoroughfare.  

Jetting into LA last Friday, hours after quitting my job in Albuquerque, I needed a weekend ‘home’ in LA and didn’t even know it. Every moment was GOLDEN. Here are but a few highlights:

1. Running up Washington Blvd, the heaviness of the salty ocean air hits me like an old friend.

2. The door man at Hinano didn’t need my ID; he said, “Girl, where you been? I know them blue eyes. Get yo’ ass in there!”

3. Group hug after group hug from my Venice peeps while I caught a 3BB (three beer buzz).

4. 15-mile solo oceanside mid-afternoon bike ride on my yellow Schwinn, which I miss very much.

5. Riding my bike on Speedway in Venice just after sunset and running into at least 7 close friends within 5 minutes. That’s more than 1 friend per minute!

6. Being fed tri-tip and Austrailian wine at Theory with yet another group of awesome friends.

7. Dog-piling the couch to watch Lawrence of Arabia.

8. Being woken up at 4AM by a herd of drunks who landed near my couch.

9. The shenanigan at Barnes & Noble.

10. Taking a nap at my Mar Vista art studio.

I have so much to be thankful for on this Good Friday. All signs point to great things. Today I hit my “Re-Set” button.

First of all, today is the Vernal (or spring) Equinox. In some religions and cultures the Vernal Equinox is the new year. I’d like to think that this is my new year. Today is the full moon. Big energy in the full moon coupled with the Equinox and the shift in season to spring and growth also make this a great day.

But today is the day that my life is coming together, congealing and coalescing here in The Burque. By the end of today, I will no longer be homeless or car-less. By the end of today I will be living in a sweet fucking condo in a hip part of Albuquerque with a rockin’ roommate and my cat. I have not been this excited about a place since I found my bungalow in Venice. I pick up my car in one hour, pack my stuff and move in today.

Ahh, and I have today off, so I can move in properly - slowly - relishing the opportunity to truly settle, something I’ve not done in months.

Ahh, it’s been lovely. It’s been strange. It’s been fun . . . I have some interesting neighbors here at the hotel.

On the other side of a brick wall and alleyway, are some older homes, most of them with junk sitting in the back yards. One morning during a pink and orange sunrise, an old lady dressed like some kind of sherpa with a turban on her head puttered around outside in the cold, hopped on an abandoned, dilapidated exercise bike in her back yard and squeaked out a slow five minute ride.

We’ve got agent Barney Fife as security officer. He always stands in the same spot all night long in the hotel parking lot, his thumbs hooked inside his belt loops.

Across the street is some super secret, massively gated government facility with video cameras everywhere and signs literally every three feet proclaiming in no uncertain terms that no one should try to sneak inside.

Then there are those wierd rapper kids next door who like to slam doors. I’ve never seen them, but let’s just say, we’ve heard one another.

But today . . . today is a great day. Today is my last day living the hotel dream (at least for awhile.)