photosynthesis

As I said, messes are cleanable. Just look at those neat peppers!

holy peppers

I knew I should have laid down some newspaper, done this over the sink or went outside. Oh well :-) Messes are fun. They give you something to clean up.

the godmother

Today I became a godmother to little Adriana - who is also my cousin. She's a beautiful one.

early morning ride

Someone warned him there was a homicide there last week. We went anyway. We were late - really late. Ten minutes was all we got, but the minutes were not wasted. Come back, a woman said and gave me a half hug. She called me sweetheart. What was there to be afraid of? After that we drove and drove and drove. And then drove some more. We drove until we should have been in bed. MLK, Goodfellow, Natural Bridge, Broadway, 14th, Florissant, Delmar, Kingshighway. I'm getting to know my city, thanks to my driver.

the kinetix

I wrote his set list for him, and they rocked the Duck Room.

fufu, finally

That's fufu in the photo. After eating it for almost a year, I found out that Annie uses grated cassava mixed with the fufu flour and water. With this knowledge, perhaps my attempts at fufu making will improve. Oh, but fufu is nothing without a good, spicy soup on top. I'm going to work on the soup part too. Peanut butter, Maggi cubes, hot pepper, meat on the bone, tomato juice, and some other sweet stuff.

round three

No fufu and African soup today, but I was greeted with a dang good homemade Turkey, the third I've had in a week. Gaye turned 13 on Monday, so I took her some pumpkin pie - one of very few things her mother doesn't know how to make. Tomorrow I return for fufu.

P.S. We have a winner for the "teranga" trivia. Congratulations to Mr. Stennes - Semper Fi! To see his answer, click here.

giving thanks

This Thanksgiving I am thankful for light. Namely, the light that greeted me Thursday morning when I woke. What are you thankful for?

Lesson 7: Love light.

teranga

If you don't know what teranga means, look it up and learn it. By "it" I mean the meaning of the word and its concept.

lunch break

I was nibbling on my sourdough and smoked ham sandwich when she approached me. For a second, my mind took me to New York City. I sat in the window staring at the activity on the street, but I couldn't fool myself. New York? Sure, but the buildings were chopped in half and the taxis morphed into cars of all colors - Buicks, Hondas, Chevys, Toyotas and Fords - great staples of the midwest.

She told me I was beautiful. She was old and looked a little disheveled, up to the wart on the tip of her nose, but she was simultaneously beautiful. Sprouts of hair grew on her aged face but her eyes and smile carried something that made me look past her appearance and into her. After she told me I was beautiful, she told me to turn my back to her. I did, puzzled. "Yep," she said with a chuckle, "You're beautiful. Women these days don't look in their rearview mirrors, so to speak."

She proceeded to tell me a story about spotting a beautiful woman, but this woman, she said, was only beautiful standing up. From behind, this woman "looked like a man." She used the word hideous. I laughed this time. She told me that she went to one of the best fashion schools and although she may look like a bag lady now, she still knows beauty when she sees it. Then she bit her tongue and apologized for "talking my ear off." I laughed a genuine laugh, again, and told her that I talk too many ears off. I tell her listening is something I'd like to do more of. So she talked. And I listened.

wait, i took that

So I went to Mizzou's homepage last night and lo and behold, the picture on the front webpage was a photo I took. I worked for University Publications back in the day, and I guess they are still making use of my images. I guess it's nice to know that someone is seeing my work.

still catching up

That's my girl's vanity plate and a good attitude toward life, too. She's the one who will bless me with her presence in el caribe. Forty five days until eight days of exploration, heat and conversación muy rica.

catch up

So did you hear? I won a poker tournament on Thursday night. I might just pick up a new habit. I won a shirt that gives the "Top Ten Reasons I Drew You Out."

10. I'm drunk. (One Pale Ale did it for me.)
9. I misread my hand.
8. The voices in my head told me to.
7. The poker gods love me.
6. I was donating to your cause, but the dealer screwed it up.
5. I'm psychic. (It's true!)
4. In a past life I was a donkey. (Okay, also true ... )
3. I was feelin' lucky. (Always!)
2. I wanted to give you one more bad beat story.
1. They were suited! (Indeed they were, the four and five of spades did it for me.)

west to east

St. Louis to Kansas City and back this weekend to photograph a wedding. Home safe, finally. Tired. Thinking.

So lucky to have a friend that waits up until after 1 a.m. for me and then stays up for at least an hour longer to chat. Too soon, we're up at 9 a.m. with a cup of peppermint tea followed by a full day with his family and then hers. I feel so welcome. Brunch and curling up on the couch with the Chiefs and chocolate, no need to entertain or impress, yet I'm impressed. To me, these families exemplify love.

Later, I join another family. This time, it's the family of my brother-in-law. I have the best turkey I have ever tasted with stuffing, potatoes and the works. The food is prepared and set out to eat on the longest table I've ever seen. Blood alone does not define family. Today I became part of three families, each for a sliver in time.

I met someone this weekend who reminds me of a part of me that used to exist. He makes me want that part of myself back. Patience. I'm the me I need to be, for now.

imagination

I see a face in the pools of water. She looks forlorn and sad. She's green and in the middle. What do you see?

My pepper plants are growing like weeds! I'm going to transplant them into individual pots soon, so if anyone wants a prestarted pepper plant, hollar. It's yours.

sportsshooter

If you want to check out an article I wrote for this month's SportsShooter.com newsletter about covering the World Series, go here.

news flash

We won our volleyball game tonight. We celebrated afterwards, and, because of it, I am going to soon be famous. Stay tuned ....

fast

Driving home, I created an illusion. If you believe I was driving 100 mph on slippery roads, you must know me well :-) Rain on.

soul city

"If you want the stars, all you have to do is reach. It's just physics," St. Louis artist Nato Caliph said in rhyme.

What does he have to say about hip hop? "I'd like to think it's 'intelligent music' not 'conscious' because 'conscious' just means to be aware, and we're all aware, some just choose to ignore it ... "

I took myself on a date tonight to see Welcome to Soul City: A Hip Hop Odyssey. I made sure to get there early and buy a ticket. Then I walked across the street and ordered up some enchiladas rancheras. My rule for speaking Spanish is usually fairly simple. If someone speaks to me in Spanish, I speak back in Spanish. If someone speaks to me in English, it's English that I use. At first, the waiter and I spoke English. After I ordered, he decided to use Spanish with me. I think it had something to do with the way I said enchiladas rancheras. I was flattered. I spoke back in Spanish. I read my Gabriel Garcia Marquez book and savored the slow-cooked pork on top of the cheese-filled tortillas. I was feeling good. I can still hear his voice in my mind. "¡Hasta luego!" The accent was comforting and nostalgic.

My full stomach and open mind came with me to the movie - which I enjoyed. The photographer in me wished for better cinemaphotography at times. (It also made me want to own a video camera!) The basics could have been better - composition, light, focus. But all in all, the message came through. St. Louis needs to unify. We're not just Nelly, Chingy and J-Kwon. We have a lot going on right here too. A couple of guys at the movie started a website to showcase St. Louis music. It's still in its infancy, but check it out.

entitlement

I watched Philadelpia for the first time last night. I didn't realize how controversial that film must have been when it was produced. I'd say it was ahead of its times. What a film, packed with love, loss and emotion. Made me remember the first time I met a woman with AIDS. Made me think about how I become entitled to certain knowledge and situations because of my camera. Made me feel ... a lot.

nervous
not sure what to say to her
if anything
what can i say?
how can i pretend to relate?

i know i'll die
she knows she'll die
the difference?

AIDS will kill her
i live with a culprit unknown
i live with a lack of pain
she lives with AIDS
she dies with AIDS

she's ordinary
she's beautiful
she walks slowly, carefully

my camera loves the smooth skin on her face
i put the camera between the two of us
but i feel as if it's not there
she's in my head

her calmness fills the room
it hugs me
my nerves are gone
i'm more relaxed than i've been in a long time
i cannot explain

our eyes meet
i smile

the only sores i see are on her feet
he touches her feet
he wears no gloves
he knows her pain better than i
his hands take her pain
it disappears, momentarily

i feel inadequate
i take no pain, just pictures
i feel bad
even guilty

she says its from a needle prick at a hospital she worked at
but she's a recovering crack addict
she doesn't lie

later we chat on the front stoop
she smokes a cigarette
i know she has AIDS
some in her family do not

when i leave
i know i will not see her again
but i send her photos
i hope she sees the beauty in these photos
that i see in her

flying pucks

"Watch for flying pucks," the Jumbotron warned. The Scott Trade Center takes those flying pucks seriously. If hit, you are encouraged to warn an usher immediately. My brother and I found humor in this.

He said, "I couldn't think of a better way to spend my Sunday." I must admit, I had a pretty swell time. The shot glass was free, as long as I drank the Baileys inside. The nachos, sweetened nuts, brats, beer, soda, popcorn and desserts were plentiful. Between periods my dad even found a high quality publication to read. Take note :-)

summation

Is anyone looking to hire a professional leaf photographer? I'd like to apply.

This weekend I:
- went to my first NHL game
- met my match (x2.5) in Scrabble
- went to Kilimanjaro – yeah – in Africa
- cleaned my place
- disappointed a friend
- stressed myself out
- went to St. Peters
- worked too much
- ate wonderful, homemade quiche
- made a new friend
- took care of myself
- saw my family
- ate leftovers
- unofficially joined a spring kickball team
- threw away rotten pumpkins
- hung a Zambian batique on my wall

state champ

Say hello to your state diving champ, Dante Jones of Hickman High School. He won by one point. Now that's close.

Lesson 6: ISO 1600 is yucky. Avoid it at all cost.

kilimanjaro

It was his belated birthday gift - a ticket to the Omnimax movie Kilimanjaro, To the Roof of Africa. He's moving to Tanzania on Dec. 10. I wanted him to be ready, but I couldn't just give him the ticket. Boring. Mysteries are better. My accomplice Dawn and I picked him up and blindfolded him. Despite this, his directional sense was on. He knew where we were at every turn. Not even circling the Tower Grove center cross threw this boy off. I think he'll be okay in Tanzania. We pulled into the Science Center parking lot. He guessed we were at the Science Center, but I lied well enough that I convinced him we were not. We escorted him into the building, the envelope containing the tickets was in his hand. We waited in line. When we arrived at the ticket seller, we made Daudi utter the code word "Kilimanjaro." He was then allowed to remove the blindfold, open the envelope and hand over his ticket to the show. Daudi made it to Kilimanjaro, and he'll do it again one day soon, even if he's blindfolded along the way.

election leftovers

My horrible joke of the day: The country is feeling blue today.

And from the news meeting ...

"Polls sell papers."

telieban

A photographer at our paper went to Afghanistan for about three weeks. In case you missed the pieces, check them out here. He started calling me TElieban during his travels since I was such a slave driver - demanding audio, captions and photos like you would not believe. The nickname stuck, I guess I kind of like it. He came by the office today bearing gifts from Afghanistan. Here I sport my Northern Alliance hat, an Afghan pin, Afghan money and my evil TElieban glare. Photo taken by the lovely Dawn Majors.

And for more newspaper selling tips ...

"Goblins sell papers."
"Miracle kids sell papers."

through the windshield

I took these photographs on the way to work. I found the leaf on my windshield and snapped a shot before using my windshield wipers to remove the many leaves covering my view.

I noticed the worker on top of the building downtown and quickly reached for my camera in the passenger's seat. I had two chances to make a photo (two red lights). During my second attempt at shooting photos through my windshield, I noticed a cop right next to me in his car. He didn't look too disturbed, and I think I may have entertained him.

Lesson 5: It's not illegal to take photos from the driver's seat.

Lesson 6: Leaf pictures are cliché, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't take them :-)

election day

Here's my documentation of election day - leaving my house and returning to my house - exactly 12 hours apart.

bleeding red and blue

Health advice for the day:

"Take care of your rectum and your rectum will take care of you," says a colleague as we sit weary-eyed waiting for election results.

i love shakespeares

I recommend the whole wheat crust, which I forgot to order. Yummm ... pepperoni, canadian bacon, special veggie and cheese. I had it all on Sunday, lucky me.

olga goes to amsterdam

как дела? я тоскую без Вас.

educate yourself on two

Tomorrow is election day. I mentioned Amendment 2 in a previous entry and realize many out-of-staters may not know the background. In fact, many in-staters may not know the background.

Amendment 2 is also known as the stem cell initiative. We've all seen the commercials, Michael J. Fox versus the girl who sold her eggs and is now, possibly, "infertile." Go here for the complete text of Amendment 2.

There's an easily digestible exhibit at the St. Louis Science Center on stem cells. Its purpose is not political but educational. If you cannot make it there by tomorrow, visit a quick gallery of photos I put together from the exhibit to learn the basics of stem cells.

marvin rogers

They run toward me as I enter their steamy three bedroom apartment. I am hugged like I haven't been hugged in months, first by the mother, Annie, and then by three children at once. Without thinking, the words "hello family" slip from my mouth. Applying this intimate word to them comes natural. It's no surprise a pot of spicy, red African soup sits on the stove. Fufu is nearby in bowls, risen and ready for consumption. The living room is clean. I've never seen the living room this clean. I hug the father, Moses, and sit down to ask him about the family. He proudly hands me folded sheets of paper. I unfold them and quickly realize their value. The papers are the results of a paternity test that prove Moses is a 99 plus percent match to a girl living in Africa named Helena.

Moses, his wife and their five children haven't seen Helena since four years ago, when they left Côte d'Ivoire after fleeing Liberia. She was separated from her family in a refugee camp when she was Moses' little girl. Now she's a woman and mother. Her son of almost a year cannot come with her to the United States. Helena's name is the only name on the papers. She has been granted a one year travel certificate, and she'll arrive in Missouri this month, if all goes as planned. Marvin Rogers is the name of the son she'll leave behind in Annie's sister's care. Moses chuckles and tells me Helena's son was named after a member of the church that brought them to the United States. I wonder how many Liberian boys live in Côte d'Ivoire with the name Marvin Rogers. I wonder if Marvin Rogers will ever get to meet his namesake.

tucker

He came to church that morning like everyone else. His license plate read "2 FAST 4 U." It was attached with rubber bands to the chair he pulled up next to his fathers. They chatted as father and son should, exchanging smiles and affection. The backpack on the back of his chair read "Tucker."

Tucker's mother came into church late. An oxygen tube ran up through her nostrils. She removed the portable tank and tubes after taking a seat with her family. Tucker's younger sister soon joined the trio, sitting between her mom and dad. When the congregation stood to sing, Tucker stayed seated in his chair. He made the sign of cross with his unsteady left hand. He reached up and stretched, sitting up as tall as he could in his chair. Still, Tucker wasn't quite as tall as the young girl standing to his left with almond-shaped eyes. She was elementary age and wore a flowered shirt and pink sweater vest with her yellow corduroys. Her deep brown, almost black eyes stole glances at Tucker. Tucker's father noticed and shot a stare back at her. She looked down. Tucker's father fidgeted with his son's collar to make sure it was standing up straight when Tucker himself could not. The congregation sat back down. Tucker put his small hand on his father's leg. Meanwhile, the priests words echoed throughout the church, "We're all different."

This reminded me of the sign I saw on the way into mass. "No on Amendment 2," it read. But there wasn't a sign that said "Yes on Amendment 2." The priest was right, we are all different. Yet, only one opinion was represented in the lawn of the church. The priest said we are all different. Does he want us to all be different? Or does he just remind us that we are?

During the "Our Father" the church came together and held eachothers' hands to pray. A Latino man stepped across the aisle and smiled at Tucker, grasping his hand. Tucker lifted his hand and the Latino mans right on cue, "For the kingdom and the power and the glory ... " I saw compassion in the Latino man's eyes. Maybe he knew what it was like to be different and not understood. Minutes later the priest said "Peace be with you." While the church exchanged hugs, kisses and blessings, Tucker sat in his chair, head down. The Latino man felt a bond with him and placed his hand on Tucker's back. He leaned over the boy and shook hands with Tucker's family. Tucker received kisses from his family but no one else.

The congregation bowed their heads to pray. I didn't put my head down, neither did Tucker. I never liked putting my head down to pray. I felt silly closing my eyes. I wanted to hold my head up and look at creation. Why must we submit, bow our heads and stare at our worn shoes and the generic tile ground? This didn't make me feel close to this God spirit. Tucker stared up at the ceiling. Tucker stared at the children behind him. Tucker stared into his father's eyes and laughed, a lot. Tucker was more alive than anyone else I saw, mumbling their doctrinated prayers.

Again, the congregation stood, and Tucker shifted in his chair. After a few moments, his head dropped forward and his back curved. I'm not sure whether he or his muscles gave in this time. His father pushed his back straight in his chair and fixed his collar, once again. Tucker whispered something in his father's ear and gave him a wide grin. I could not help but notice how long and beautiful his eye lashes were.

At communion, Tucker wheeled himself up the aisle to receive the Body of Christ. His family stayed in their seats this time. I was two rows behind Tucker, but I made it back to my seat before him. He was still navigating his way through the bodies on the way to receive Christ's body. Tucker motioned parishioners past him as he situated himself. The almond-eyed girl stole some more glances. The Latino looked too, but he didn't sneak his glances like the young girl. He had held Tucker's hand and shook the hands of Tucker's parents. Maybe he thought this made it okay for him to stare.

At the end of mass, people left the church. Many looked at Tucker as they passed him. Smiles inevitably appeared on their faces. I don't think they were smiles of pity. I pray that they weren't. I sat behind Tucker, but I knew already that his smile was contagious. His smile wouldn't leave my mind. Some of the adults kept their heads down. Was it out of politeness or fear that they did not notice the boy in the aisle who was different?

choral cramming

My friend, I found out today, is a choir director! Here's her girls. They can sing :-) (And now all their songs are stuck in my mind ... )

And for the Scrabble update, I did the "whooping" tonight. My mom accepted a modest, third place spot. Better luck next time, Scrabble Queen! I won by going out on the word "rule." My dad's word "genome" pulled him ahead of me, but thanks to the points on my brother's and mother's unplayed tiles, I managed an eight-point victory.

I'm sick of political ads and ready for Tuesday.

erased

I returned to Columbia this weekend to attend a fundraiser dinner/silent auction for one of my mom's extracurriculars. The group is called Step Up! American Association for Rwandan Women. I am continually amazed by my mom and this group's efforts to establish a network of counseling and hope in Rwanda for those affected by the genocide. Béa Gallimore, a professor at MU, started the group after losing many of her family members in Rwanda. I believe she was in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) at the time. When she went back to Rwanda not only was her family absent, but the home they lived in was gone. She used the words, "They had been erased." Yes, erased. Those are pretty powerful words when applied to lives.

Joyce Leader, former ambassador to Rwanda, met Béa about 30 years ago in Africa. Leader came to address to crowd last night and support the grass roots efforts of Step Up! To find out more about Step Up!, visit their website. Another group doing grass roots work in Africa is called Netlife. Two SLU medical students travel to Senegal each summer and distribute bed nets to protect against malaria. To find out more, go to their website.

albom, at it again

Just finished For One More Day by Mitch Albom. Good, quick read, although no Albom book will match Tuesday's with Morrie.

"You can find something truly important in an ordinary minute."

"But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all stories is always your mother's story because hers is where yours begins."

That's my beginning in the photos. Speaking of my mother, she was inspiration for the Scrabble hello. As someone recently reminded me, a standard sentence of my mom's is, "Who wants to get their butts whooped in Scrabble?" I'm going home this weekend, and I look forward to my whooping.

beans, beans

What does it mean if I ate a bowl full of refried beans and cheese for dinner the last two nights and enjoyed it? Last night's edition had green onion. Tonight, I skipped the veggie.

I feel like singing.

oh dear

And from today's news meeting..."Rumors sell papers!"

southbound

So, I bought a ticket to the Dominican Republic yesterday. I leave Jan. 4. People have asked me why the Dominican? Here's my short list: Spanish-speaking country, cheaper to fly to than South America, a country I've never been to, affordable, Caribbean but has a unique culture, always been high on my list of places to visit. Notice, no where in that list is Albert Pujols mentioned :-) I've been running Spanish phrases through my head and getting excited. I pulled a couple of photos from my months in Costa Rica to get me in the Latin mood.

Something amusing that happened today: I had a note saying that I missed a delivery from UPS, so I called the 800 number to arrange for pick up. Of course, a machine woman answered the phone. I started by mechanically stating my phone number and answering with the brisk yes and no answers. I then decided to have fun and pretend as if the machine were actually a person, so I used some vocal intonations, etc. I'll have you know that she does not know what "yes, please" means. You have to say "yes." A world without pleases? C'mon, no thanks!



Puerto Viejo, on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, one of my favorite towns in the country



Guadalupe, kind of part of San José, one of the many beautiful Catholic churches in el país



Barva, Festival of Saint Batholomeu. Every little town has a saint, and the towns celebrate on that saint's day. Those things that look like pig bladders are pig bladders, and they reeked. They are attached to strings, and you whip others with your bladder. What can I say? Tradition is tradition.