Category Archives: Travel

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Great Work, Hawai'i, Health, Mountains, Travel

P.E.T. Scan

June 4, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: P.E.T. Scans. Radioactive tracers. Bar mitzvah. Torah portion. Service prayers and blessings. Thyroid blood draw. Euclid, a wide sky deep space telescope. James Webb. Hubble. Our local cluster. The Milky Way. Its outer arms. Our home there. Three Body Problem. Wild Trees. Trees as my way in. Colorado Trees. Shadow Mountain Trees.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Universe. (and, thanks for all the fish!)

One brief shining: Sometimes my mind wobbles when it considers the Universe, this vast interconnected web of all things to which we are intimately yet often over unimaginable distances connected, then I have to turn to the Lodgepole out my window, those Mule Deer munching on Dandelions, the astonishing human body, this Mountain on which I live and my mind says, oh, I see, and steadies itself.

P.E.T.* scan today. An injection sends a chemical that binds to prostate cancer cells and carries a radioactive signal readable by the positron emission tomography machine. Where it lights up. Metastases. If it finds some, a new treatment plan will follow. Possibly back on the familiar Orgovyx and Erleada. Possibly radiation. Depends. Might find nothing right now though we know some cancer has begun to grow again due to my rising PSA. If nothing lights up, I’ll stay off the drugs for now. Probably another scan if and/or when my PSA goes up further.

Scanxiety. Who knew? It’s a real thing. Any cancer patient is familiar with it to some extent. That tingle that comes with another lab draw, waiting for the results. Or, imaging. Hunting for tumors. Mets. Like I’m having today. I have scanxiety. It’s mild. But not feeling something would seem weird to me.

Who wants to have metastases confirmed? Sure, it helps identify treatment modalities that will extend my life, but… Who wants to need treatment to extend their life? My rational self knows ignoring my cancer would bring certain death. Not soon, but certain. As a result, I’ll get in my car and drive to Sky Ridge Hospital once again. Wait 45 minutes for the tracer to circulate throughout my body. Lie down and let the highly sophisticated machinery take a look.

A week from Thursday I’ll talk to Kristie, see what the results mean. Whatever the scan shows, it will not result in a cure. That’s settled. But prostate cancer is manageable. And this is the way that happens.

June 4th Kilauea eruption and the Milky Way

Just a moment: Kilauea erupts! Again. It’s one of the most active Volcanoes on Earth. Kate and I stayed at Volcano House for two weeks, a National Parks Hotel in Volcanoes National Park. We became acquainted with this vast Shield Volcano, with Halemaʻumaʻu, the caldera home of Pele, the Hawai’ian goddess of fire, with the offerings native Hawai’ians left on its rim. Flowers. Alcohol. Shells.

May I say that this photograph soothes my scanxiety. This vastness and our living Earth. Together. As they and we are.

*How does it work? PSMA, short for Prostate Specific Membrane Antigen, is a protein found on the surface of prostate cancer cells. The “imaging agent” consists of a chemical that binds to PSMA, honing in on prostate cancer cells wherever they are in the body. Attached to this binding chemical is a radioactive “reporter.” Patients are given a one-time injection of this combination molecule into the bloodstream, “tagging” prostate cancer cells. The patients are then given a scan with an imaging camera that “lights up” areas where the molecule has accumulated—i.e., sites of prostate cancer (see photo above).

PSMA PET imaging may help guide your treatment plan.

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Jefferson County, Mountains, Park County, Shadow Mountain, Travel

Desiderata Days. Mountain Nights.

May 29, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Desiderata days. Cool, good sleeping nights. Colorado. Guanella Pass. That jerky store. The Cutthroat Cafe. Happy Camper. The Waterfall. Geneva Creek. The Continental Divide. The Shaggy Sheep. Jefferson Lake. Ruby and her new shoes. Taking a day. Letting it just be. Mountains. Forests. Streams and Creeks. Bridges and trails: The Abyss and Burning Bear Creek Trails. Square Top Mountain. Mt. Blue Sky. Mt. Rosalie. Square Top Mt.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Rocky Mountains, my home

One brief shining: Great Sol, my inner ohr, has begun to peek over Mt. Grief and Mt. Inertia, encouraged by the trip to San Francisco where we/I/us let go of the Lilliputian ropes with which we’d bound ourself to one place, Shadow Mountain, and to one journey, becoming a Jew, and to the dark arts with which death enthralls our psyche, let go of them and got out, on the train, let go of them and went on a trip.

Yesterday. Ah. Well.

At last. After too many years. Too much thinking and sitting. Yes. I did it. I went on a short but profound adventure, never leaving the familiar confines of Jefferson and Park Counties. Here’s how it went. With pictures.

Before. A while ago. I named Tuesdays as desiderata days. Go anywhere days. Let the day unfold. Rather than directing it: Write now. Eat now. Study Torah and bar mitzvah portions now. Sleep now. Watch TV now. Workout now. Do work-a-day things to manage my life. Pay bills. Write e-mails. Contact my docs. No. Not on a Tuesday. On Tuesdays I would set aside all that, get in Ruby and head out.

Problem was. I never did it. Oh, I went on a few hikes last year. But not on Tuesdays. Just never let myself experience the freedom I put in my calendar. I even have the Tuesdays named on my Google Calendar: Desiderata Days.

Until. Talked with Tom. The Florida Panhandle has a different understanding of Mountain than we do here. They even put up this mural and named a road and businesses after Blue Mountain:

64 feet. The highest point on the Gulf of Mexico. Photo Credit: Tom Crane, retired.

After I finished talking to Tom the day could have devolved into a usual Tuesday. But it didn’t. I put on my jeans, my LL Bean vest, got my car fob and tiny wallet, a hat, got in Ruby, and left the house. First to King Sooper for the ATM. Cash for the Happy Camper. On to 285 headed south and west toward Pine, then Bailey.

Bought some edibles. Still can’t believe this is legal. Always feel a bit furtive.

Down Crow Hill and it’s 7% grade into Bailey and the Cutthroat Cafe. Passed the Smiling Pig Saloon and Smokehouse where I hope to take Tom, Irv, and Paul in a couple of weeks. Breakfast outside. Oatmeal and Italian sausage. Coffee, sourdough toast. Over for a look at the Sasquatch Outpost. They’re all in on Sasquatch tourist items. From t-shirts to action figures, signs and blankets. Plus footprints.

Faced a decision. Go home or go to Guanella Pass? A desiderata day. Guanella Pass. On Highway 285 through the Platte River Valley, past Shawnee, the Orvis ranch and fly fishing destination, Villa Marie, the Shaggy Sheep, and onto tiny Grant. Turn right.

I only drove part way up the 11,700 foot Pass which leads to the old mining town of Georgetown, also accessible from I-70. I had gone on a whim with no water bottles or camelpak. No sunscreen. Plus, it rained much of the time. No raingear. No such thing as bad weather only inadequate gear.

On the way back down I stopped at the jerky place I’ve driven past many times. The owner, a luxuriantly white bearded old man with an oxygen canula, said, “It’s a tiny shop. Just look.” He pointed to the signs above the racks: Salmon jerky, Beef jerky, Alligator jerky, Buffalo, Elk, local beef. I paid with cash and when I did he pointed to a sign, no tax with cash. Cheating the taxman, I imagine. Especially since above this sign was a $1,000 bill with a head shot of our criminal ex-president. The Mountains.

Back home I rested. Thinking. Yep, about a half a day’s energy. That’s my limit these days. Most important. I smiled. Desiderata days. After the bar mitzvah, a desiderata week. Off to Taos.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Travel

Donner Party Picnic Area

May 18, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Ruth. The class of 2024. Denver University. High School. Still high school. Sarah. My son. Seoah in pink. Helping with the Rice planting in Okgwa. Graduation ceremonies. Rites of passage. Alan. His new Beemer. Electric. Venturing into adulthood. Airmen and women. My son as uncle or para-father. The USAF. Radar. Islands.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Seeing and hearing my son

One brief shining: Stepped up to the cash register, ordered Bolognese Sour Dough Toast, a Lemonberry tart, a fancy pastry with a melted sugar halo, and a Cuban coffee, gathered in the number, 47, for the order and went back to the table in the Bread Lounge overlooking the Mountains west of Evergreen including the completely Snow covered Continental Divide.

Speaking of the Continental Divide. On my train ride to San Francisco the conductor, who came on speaker from time to time with historic or geographic points of interest, indicated the River flowing beside the train. The Colorado. I’d crossed it before on a long ago trip to Colorado from Phoenix, but never had a chance to really see it. Muddy with Spring runoff it flowed fast and full, a River of so many dreams. Las Vegas. Tucson. Phoenix. Even far away Los Angeles. Then. Wait it a minute. It’s going the wrong way. Jumped to the first time I crossed the Red River near Fargo. Same sensation.

What? Oh. The Continental Divide. This mud roiled river flowed west and south, toward the Baja, toward the great Pacific Ocean, not the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic. Even though I got this intellectually my brain kept feeling tricked each time I looked at the Colorado. My limbic system was not sure what to do with this fundamental change. One it did not understand.

Another odd point of interest. The Donner Party Picnic Area in the Tahoe National Forest. I mean, they had to know what they were doing when they named that, right?

At midnight on the 28th of April I woke up and wandered down stairs. The train, the California Zephyr, had stopped, and I wondered where we were. There in the distance was Salt Lake City. The Mormon Tabernacle. The angel Moroni. Twinkling in the intermontane night. A cool breeze came in from the open door of my sleeper car.

Just a moment: Alan, yesterday, said rather than being in a long Pause that I had moved into the inner Charlie. A student. A scholar. A friend. Living alone and loving it. Hmm. I think both are true. I have privileged my introverted, scholarly side, no doubt. And, as he pointed out, he and I have taken many acting classes together. So I was engaged. True. However, it’s also true that my life has had mostly external guide rails in spite of that. In the last year especially Jewish immersion, mikveh, sure, but Jewish home life, too, for example. Shabbat. The Shema. The mezzuzahs. And the classes with Jamie.

The Pause is a time of collecting experience, integrating it, letting it change me. Then, living the change. I feel like I’m moving toward that moment. Perhaps this year.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Travel

Back

May 15, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Shadow Mountain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Waste. San Francisco. Waymo. Ruby. Kate, her Creek and Valley. Ruth, the graduate. Gabe. Jen. Sarah. Mia. Mia’s mother. Kep. His yahrzeit last month. A foggy cap on Black Mountain. Blue Sky above. Must be cloudy to the east. Great Sol. Muted. See’s chocolate. Michael Strassfield. His 3rd Jewish catalog. Mary in Melbourne. Guru.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fog

One brief shining: This morning Fog creeps down Black Mountain obscuring its view from my window, the Lodgepoles have a mysterious, shrouded, yet also illuminated look, the interplay of Great Sol and the dewpoint, which my in-home scientist, Kate, explained to me so I understood.

Kate was so quick with math, with scientific knowledge, and medical knowledge of course. She could explain difficult ideas so I could understand them. I miss that part of our relationship. Along with many others. She was also my cooking consultant. My cribbage partner. Traveling companion. Garden planning and maintaining co-worker. Dog lover. Bee work assistant. Grandparent and parent. Most of all, a soulmate whose life meant as much to me as my own.

In this photograph, taken in Songtan, Kate’s continuing her three years of work on a counted cross-stitch I bought for her in Washington, D.C. It says Love is Enough. Hangs in my lower level now. Also had t-shirts made with a print of it for her birthday celebration the year she died. An amazing woman on so many levels.

Weird, looking back over the last two or three months. It’s like there was a shroud over my sense of self. I felt overwhelmed by the work for my conversion and bar mitzvah. Enough that I had real anxiety about it. Something I’m free of most of the time these days. I also reached into my bag of oh what a bad boy am I memories and ongoing concerns. Especially health and aging wise. Nope. You’re no longer able to take care of the house. Of feeding yourself. Too lazy. Too weak. Too inattentive. The back. Ouch. I’ll never travel again. That food poisoning. Showed how weak I am. Cancer. PSA blood draw yesterday. Probably mets everywhere. I’m in my tenth year after all.

Gosh. Gee whiz. How am I able to get up in the morning?

Then, much like the Fog slowly burning off Black Mountain as I write, the shroud faded away and I found myself back. Exercising. Confident about my daily life. My Torah portion down. Learning parts of the Morning Service that I can offer as my contribution on June 12th. Reaching back out from myself toward others.

Another thing. My trip now has a golden memory. Gone are the stretches where my back taught me its lessons. Gone is the lingering emotional and physical residue of the food poisoning. Left in their place are time at the Asian Museum. The Redwoods. Japantown. Buying chocolate at See’s. Laughing and eating with Diane. Meals at Sears Fine Food and nights at the Chancellor Hotel.

Why did this change occur? I think it was the trip. I needed a break from the seriousness that had become life. I needed some fun. A lesson in there. I’m pretty sure.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Memories, Travel

Oh, the Times We Had

May 13, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Moon of Shadow Mountain

Monday gratefuls: Great Sol now lighting us up earlier and earlier. My Lodgepole Companion happy, Needles up, swaying a bit in Mountain Breezes. Inner weather. Internet returns. Learning about halakah, how to live a Jewish life. Learning my Torah portion. Learning how to pronounce parts of the morning service. Ancora imparo. Ichigo-iche.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Exercise

One brief shining: Years ago in the casino on the Amsterdamm, somewhere between New York City and Ft. Lauderdale, I got on a winning streak, blackjack, a game which I played every afternoon five days a week as long as I carried newspapers in Alexandria, thousands of hands, this time in honor of Merton’s brother, Kate’s uncle who had died just before we left on this post-retirement cruise around Latin America, dedicating any winnings to a charity he would have approved, not much, maybe $150, still, and the folks crowded around me, brushed my back, wanted my luck which was more leavened by skill than in most gambling.

Oh the times we had. Seeing Europe by Eurail. The Sistine Chapel. Red checkered tablecloths in Vienna. The Botticelli’s in the Uffizi. The Grand Canal from the rail terminal. That first view of the Pacific when entering the lobby of the Mauna Kea. Dinner at Mama’s Fish House. Going twice through the Panama Canal. Harvesting honey. Swatting off bees as we ran the honey harvester. Kate in her bandana, trowel in hand, Ninja Weeder! Quiet evenings with the dogs around the fire pit. Doing our laundry in Paris. Seeing heather and tartan making in Inverness. Cooking together. Holding hands.

We went to Greece and Turkey, Korea and Singapore, most of the way around Latin America, enjoying each other, laughing and having frustrating moments. We worked together as a team, making Andover a spot better than it was when we got there. A place fruitful with Apple Trees, Cherry Trees, Plums, Pears, and Currants. A sweet place with hives of Honeybees working hard. A place filled with fresh Vegetables and beautiful Flowers all season long. A place we nurtured that nurtured us back.

We cared for, played with, and cried over so many Dogs. Over Jon and Joe. Over Mark that one year. And finally we uprooted it all and carried the festival of our life to Shadow Mountain. Where life became merged with Mountains, Wild Neighbors, Judaism, and the grandkids. Yes, she’s been dead for three years. But neither gone nor forgotten.

Just a moment: After the food poisoning and for much of last week, I fell into a slump. I mentioned this when I talked about how my psyche can suffer when my body feels bad. After some self therapy, literally, after the nausea fading not even into memory but away, after reengaging the bar mitzvah work yet to be done and prepping for my final conversion session with Rabbi Jamie, my strong self has returned. Able. Caring. Dedicated. At work and at play. Wish I had a way to alert myself when I head off the rails since the self I condemn then is in fact the same self I now applaud.

Family, Travel

A bit more on the City by the Bay

May 12, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Moon of Shadow Mountain

Sunday gratefuls: Halakah. Mishne. Mitzvot. Talmud. Torah. Morning blessings. Mah Tovu. Socrates Cafe. Kate’s third yahrzeit. Snow. Thunder. Lightning. Cold. Steel gray Sky. Water. Coffee. See’s chocolate. Powell Street. Cable Cars. My son and Seoah. Murdoch. The Ancient Brothers. Home. Amtrak. Vacation. Back. Learning. Going beyond pain. Vitality.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

One brief shining: Lightning flashed, my Midwest Self braced, counted one thousand one, one thousand two, BLAM, right over my just awakened body, the earth rattled, and my Mountain Self hoped the Lightning came with Rain, flash, one thousand one, one thousand two, BLAM, no longer directly overhead, moving away so I got up, looked out the window and lo what to my wondering eyes should appear, Snow not Rain, a couple of inches of heavy, late Spring Snow.

No. I’m not in San Francisco anymore. There I had seven days of sun and warmth. My cabin fever trip came at a good point. Winter has begun to reassert itself. Reluctant to let go of the Front Range, of Shadow Mountain. Yes, I’m tired of it, tired of the Snow and the Cold, but not tired of the extra fire repression. A good setup for a short Fire season then the Monsoons. May it be so.

A few more San Francisco pics and notes. Diane told me about the many women in San Francisco who go dancing in gay bars to avoid having to hassle with straight men. It’s a San Francisco thing, she said. Made sense to me.

The Japantown mall has an immersive feel, a sort of English speaking extension of the homeland. When we found the bookstore Diane remembered, I saw a plush Totoro and the Cat Bus from Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro. This store had about half English and Japanese titles.

San Francisco has old street cars from both its past street car lines and other world cities refurbished and in use. Makes for intriguing sites on a random basis. There were many Waymo driverless taxis roaming the streets. They’re distinctive with their sensors and no one occupying the driver’s side seat.

Last note: Friday at City Hall. Diane wanted me to see City Hall. And, it is magnificent. But I was lucky enough to see it on Friday. On Friday there are many, many weddings thanks to the promise of two days for a honeymoon. I have pictures.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Plants, Travel

Awe

May 11, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Moon of Shadow Mountain

Shabbat gratefuls: Kate’s yahrzeit. Lighting the yahrzeit candle. Frost on the Lodgepole’s at Black Mountain’s peak. May 15 in Minnesota. Planting ok then, in days past. Self-care. Nuggets win in Minneapolis. Coastal Redwoods. Sequoias. Bristlecone Pine. Douglas Fir. White Pine. Fraser Pine. Ponderosa Pine. Kate’s Creek. Maxwell running full. Bear Creek.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate

One brief shining: The boardwalk felt soft, welcoming as morning Sunshine filtered onto it through the Forest, its planks took shade and sun alike, filling it with gentle magic while not revealing the wonders rising only feet from its sides, where the Coastal Redwoods, which can reach over 300 feet toward the sky, with trunks requiring many hands for a complete hug, soared up from the Valley soil with grace, power.

Awe. Wonder. Amazement. In my belated but so appreciated first contact with these giants of the Forest. Each one with the presence of a meditating Buddha. Still, rooted to their place, focused on their wooden dreams. Diane told me of the efforts firefighters went through to save the Sequoias, putting aluminum fire resistant blankets around their bases to protect them. I would help. The majesty of these Trees made me want to weep with joy. That we share the Earth with such entities.

This is a possible outcome of travel. Transport to a place unexpected, even unimagined. Oh, I had an inner picture, an expectation about how it would be to see these Trees. Nothing prepared me for the sight of them. The unique and powerful sense of self they project. Wild neighbors are so precious because they show us the limits of artifice, of bending the world to our will. Wild neighbors are natural Taoists, accepting the world as it comes, adapting to its changes.

Of course, I’m most familiar with Lodgepole Pines, Aspen, Mule Deer, Elk, Black Bears, Foxes, Mountain Lions yet the Coastal Redwood and its near relative the Sequoia are my wild neighbors, too. Just further away. How bare, spiritually, would be my world without them. Can you imagine? A world with no Wild Neighbors?

Just a moment: Been thinking about the purpose of universities. Came up with three to start with: 1. Collect, curate, and conserve the deposit of human culture. Imagine and execute ways to keep it available to generations yet unborn. 2. Foster a culture of critical thought. 3. Provide those moratorium years for each generation where life becomes exploration and adventure.

What other purposes underlie this grand social experiment?

It took me until yesterday to get my Mountain legs back. To once again be here, in my life. Some psychic pain over the last few days occasioned in the main by back stress + food poisoning. When my body’s not right, it’s easy to spiral, confusing a wounded body with a wounded soul. I became febrile, fragile. Old. In need of assisted living. Foolish for living this long alone, high in the Mountains. My judgment compromised by a younger self’s commitment to the Rockies.

Yet this morning, as I feel my way into shabbat, my new Jew soul smiles. You’re where you belong, Yisrael. And not too old. Not yet.

Travel

Photos

May 9, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Moon of Shadow Mountain

Thursday gratefuls: Peanuts. Oxygen concentrators. Fences. Kohler generator. Bonobos. New clothes. Being alive. That snapped Lodgepole. High Winds. Home. Shadow Mountain. Its long, sloped flank. The Aquifer. The Well. The leech field. The septic tank. Sewer and water. Moods. Their fungibility.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Better body

One brief shining: Moods flutter in and out of my psyche like scared birds, not sure where to roost, where to go, how long to stay, often unnoticed until just before they exit, hey sadwinged, hey joyous smile, oh not you again self doubter, unwelcome voice, fly away, here again deep attention, welcome back, come ahead shy one, bring it on feisty mood and all the others throughout the day lifting me up, crashing me down, changing me. Mood.

Picture show. San Francisco

Health, Politics, Travel

I feel my powers returning

May 8, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the Moon of Shadow Mountain

Wednesday gratefuls: Sleep. Great Sol. My Lodgepole Companion. Black Mountain. My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Diane. San Francisco. Torah portion. Tara. Irv. Marilyn. Fingers and toes. Noses. Skin. Taste and Smell. Opening the heart. And the mind. Snow. Frost. 25 degrees. Mountain Spring. Wild Neighbors. Maxwell Creek. Kate’s Creek. Colorado Blue Sky.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Being Home

One brief shining: As the train ran on metal wheels, pulled by massive diesel engines, my roomette and I remained still, watching the U.S. West unfold from the Presidio past Sacramento and on into the Sierra Nevadas, into the alakali flats of Nevada with Battle Mountain and its gold mines, next into the big stop for Brigham Young-Utah, Provo and Salt Lake City gone in the night while I slept, awakening to hoodoos, not long not long after pushing on into Grand Junction, home in Colorado, home in the Rockies, a few more hours of Mountains and Streams, ski towns, Snow, and we took a long gentle curve to bleed off altitude and made the final leg into Union Station where Adam picked me up for my return to Shadow Mountain.

As my son once said, in a line quoted often by Kate and me, “I feel my powers returning.” He said this on the way home from Arizona after her parent’s 50th anniversary party. We were in our RV somewhere in New Mexico. This food poisoning really put the hurt on me. Exacerbated no doubt by having to take that long train ride home. And by its following a week that already stressed my body. Maybe too by its having taken up lodging in a 77 year old body. We don’t throw things off as easily as we age. Even so I can feel my body regrouping, gathering strength, much needed and appreciated strength.

Back to exercise? No. The tummy would not support that quite yet. Buy some groceries, Bar Mitzvah lesson, more rest, The change however has begun to flow in a positive direction.

Just a moment: Yes, I admit it. The hush money trial? That one where a former president could go to jail for contempt? Where the witnesses include Michael Cohen and Stormy Daniels? Where a once and future king could become a felon. Where he could be sentenced to prison. Has my attention. Like watching a slow-motion train wreck of our nation’s rule of law, norms of decency, and our ability to stomach one more written sentence-like this one?-about, well. You know.

Glad we now have in the record the positions the Donald and Stormy experienced with each other. His bareback style. His boxer shorts that suddenly appeared. No tightie whities for our Don.

In my admittedly hopeful and legally unshaped opinion? He did it! He did it! He did it! Lock him up. Right now.

God. If only. I can see signs, dark signs that events may conspire to give the orange one an advantage in November. Consider this the first movements of a spell I’m casting. Against just such a thing.

Health, Sport, Travel

May 7, 2024 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane and the 1% Moon of Liberation

Tuesday gratefuls: 29 degrees. Freeze warning. Spits of Snow. Not in the Bay Area anymore. Windy, a cold white Sky. Ah, the merry, merry month of May! Mark in Bangkok. Where it’s hot, dense, different from his last visit. Staying at home, letting the food poisoning resolve. Shadow Mountain. A Lodgepole topped by high Winds. Food. Water. Rest. As buddy Mark Odegard observed, “At our age traveling is hard work.”

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sleep

One brief shining: Looked out my bedroom window and found a green Shrub that was unfamiliar, unfamiliar?, in the scene I see several times a day, I shook my head, no, can’t be, yet there, oh wait, my eye had traveled to the top of a Lodgepole next to the new Shrub, that fresh gash; it was a Tree top snapped off in one of our high Winds, yes the transition in weather can be brutal here.

Though the back dominated my trip the food poisoning of last Friday night has dominated its end and my return home. I know. I know. Debbie downer. Again. You can skip this without guilt. Still, I want to leave bread crumbs about life here. So. Not sure where I picked up the bad food, bad food stay down! Damn it. Possibly Japantown where Diane and I had lunch. Maybe that piece of tempura shrimp? Whatever it was by 9 pm on Friday I had both diarrhea and vomiting. And not just a little. I became weak, dehydrated, and, of course, did not sleep on that the night before I reboarded the California Zephyr for the return trip to Denver.

Packing seemed impossible. I called Diane and asked her to come help. Even when I did I knew, due to the parking situation, that she couldn’t. But she understood. A real sweetheart, my cousin. Instead of packing I stuffed things in the Travelpro. Going home that’s ok. All will need washing and care anyhow when back. At least that’s what I told myself. Finished up. Went downstairs and checked out. Diane came.

It was a Rainy Saturday after seven straight days of beautiful weather. Sunny. Light Breezes. Warm but never hot. Like a movie the weather signaled my inner world. I got on the Amtrak bus and headed across the Bay Bridge.

The journey home. Garret helped. The sleeping car attendant. Brought me my meals. There was a bathroom just down the hall. My roomette was on the ground level of the sleeper along with five others, checked bags, and shower rooms. Couldn’t have asked for a better set up.

At Union Station Adam picked me up in his Tahoe (Now, I’ve been there. Sort of.) and deposited me on Shadow Mountain. I needed his help getting my bag in and out.

Now Tuesday morning. Trying to stay hydrated without getting my stomach excited enough to remember Friday night. Still eating bland food. Sleeping a lot. Nap after I write this.

Just a moment: Oh, the agony. NOW the Timberwolves get real.