Brought To You By

Traveling is expensive. I want to do more of it but the costs mount up and it restricts the amount of interviews I get done. It’s public transportation or rental cars and parking and gas, food and incidentals. But it hasn’t been lodging, thanks to super kind and generous people.

My sponsors so far have been:

Joseph Crawford
Isabel Kallman
Rhoda and Dave Anderson
Mickele Hughes
Grace Davis and her husband George

Each of them has been instrumental to me being able to get the Interview Project going. They are the people that support people like me: someone with an unproven idea but with lots of passion. They believe in me and there is no way for me to express how much that means. I can’t wait to launch the site on January 15th. I believe that what I’m creating will serve not only as entertainment but also as a library of the people that have helped to create and shape the internet and the blogosphere, which is important as things keep changing and morphing (as they should!) so we don’t lose where we came from or how we got here. The way our world has changed, the way we interact, the way we get things done, the way we stay connected and informed, the way our neighborhoods and friends have moved from our cities into our computers and the people that take advantage of all these new tools – it’s all worth a deeper look.

Soon, there will be a sponsor/donate page where you can help out if you want. In the meantime, feel free to PayPal leah [at] leahpeah [.] com. And for the person that wanted to donate and stay anonymous, you can always send cash or cashiers check made to Leah Peterson to my PO box. That would be awesome.

Soon, More Words

Soon, I’ll be home and there will be more words. But, for now, these images will have to do. This is the lovely Grace. She and her husband, George, have put me up the last few nights while I’ve been up here interviewing. They are beautiful people.

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And this is Malcolm. These pictures show him off so much better than I could tell you about him.

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New RSS Feed

Hey there people that read Leahpeah via feeds. I just joined Feedburner. You should be switched over seamlessly, but if you have any issues, please let me know. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Two Things

1. I pierced my nose. Then I got sick. Then last night while I was sleeping, the pillow (in league with my mother and possibly the heart of Joe) snagged the tiny diamond and removed it from the swollen hole. If you’ve ever pierced your nose you know that the fresh hole closed up faster than I could yell ‘No!!” and grope around in the dark for the tiny stud. I don’t even have a photo of it in my nose, so slight was its inhabitance in my body. But here is a photo of where it used to be:

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And one of my hair, because soon you’ll hear a story about it and you’ll need it for a reference.

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2. Silent Bob / Kevin Smith has a website. He’s still funny. I thought he went away but in fact, he just morphed into someone that talks sometimes. The latest installment of Sucks Less teaches you how to potty train your cat so you never have to clean a litter box again. Very important information!

Yeasty Fun

Me: Wow, that bread smells good.
Alex: Are you going to have some?
Me: Nope.
Tyler: I thought you liked it more than chocolate?
Me: I do. But if I eat it, I’ll get a carb/sugar crash and you’ll see what your mom looks like on drugs.
Tony: Like those people in movies? No, mommy! Don’t do it!
Me: Riiiight.
Devon: My mom. She got hooked on baguettes.
Alex: Walk away from the bagel!
Joe: Remember the old days when it was just muffins and rolls?
Tony: The muffin: The Gateway Bread.

Stolen Moment

There are fires burning in Moorpark. We spent the day worried for the families near the flames and smoke. Even their home with their dad is only about two miles away from one hill-o-flames next to the power plant.

Last night, we should have been packing up the car with the kids’ homework and finished projects for school in the morning. But instead, we looked at the internet and found out that school had been cancelled for Monday. And suddenly, time was created. There was no rushing to get things sorted out, clothes found, the football and basketball rounded up. There was no yelling to mom to find a lost paper or pair of socks. We fell into a pocket of Time that had not existed a mere 5 minutes previous. No one had to be anywhere in the morning, except for Joe. Poor Joe. He asked me why, if I was going to orchestrate a fire to get me more time with the kids, why I didn’t place it closer to the freeway where it would affect his ability to get to work.

The tree that had been sitting slightly at an angle and neglected since we’d brought it home suddenly perked up. There hadn’t been any time to attend to it what with the football play off game and other commitments. But now we could. We popped popcorn and made hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and stayed up watching My Cousin Vinny and the Oregon State at Hawaii game that started at 11:30pm. Just because we could. We went to bed at 2am. The kitchen is a complete disaster area. All the kid paraphernalia is piled around the front door.

I think we’ll go out for breakfast. We continue to pray for those being affected by the fires.

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Three Car Rides (1 of 3)

Mehdi had been driving passengers at all hours for three days. Being woken up by the phone at 3:15am after a scant one hour and ten minutes of sleep was torturous. To say his eyes were bleary would be an understatement of such great proportions it was laughable. He face was a caricature of himself, the dark, red lines outlining the deep bags under his eyes, cutting deep shadows across his cheekbones and making his dark eyelashes stand out like frames on paintings. But it would all be worth it when he got the paycheck. The holidays were just around the corner and every penny counted. His two young girls deserved the world and he would get it for them.

The woman had called the night before giving detailed instructions and the address of her destination. Had he been more awake a few hours ago, he would have remembered to bring the map and the directions he had downloaded from the internet. But he wasn’t and he didn’t. But he was sure that he would be able to find where she was going. It was a small town they were going to, after all.

The drive of 45 minutes was one of the longest drives of his life. He willed his eyes to stay open, almost missed the exit, took a few wrong roads but aptly avoided collision a number of times. The woman at one point asked him to please call into the office and have someone there tell him the directions because she was not sure she could find the way in the dark in the middle of the night. He scoffed, telling her no, sadly, they are all sleeping and there is no one there to speak to. This is not true, of course, but he does not want the shame of admitting he was too tired to remember to bring the directions.

Mehdi thinks to himself that the woman in the backseat is too much of a chatterbox. Why does she insist on speaking to him non-stop about unimportant topics such as annual precipitation and the Seattle Seahawks and Huskies? He has no care for those kinds of things. Getting people from point A to point B is his concern and right now, he is not so sure he can find point B. Perhaps, he thinks in his unawake and groggy mind, perhaps she knows where she is going and can tell me the way? Perhaps she is always awake at 3:45 am and this is why she is so chatty? Perhaps I can put her mouth to good use and have her tell me which way to go? In these small hilly areas, the addresses are so hard to find. But after a time he realizes that clearly, she is not going to be much help. The sounds of her voice are annoying like a buzzing bee but, he admits grudgingly to himself, they are all that is keeping him awake.

Miraculously, after some time and a few wrong turns and with going 10 miles out of the way, (because surely there is a faster road if he only would have known it) they have found it. He looks up and realizes that he has no idea where he is. He has no idea how to find his way back down and through the hills. It might take him hours.

Mehdi asks the woman if she could go in the house and ask her relations the way back down the hills. They could surely tell him. She tells him that sadly, they are all sleeping so there is no one to speak to.