Category Archives: Health

Commentary on Religion, Faith and Spirituality, Family, Health, Judaism, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

Ruach. Breath. Wind. Spirit.

March 24, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Spring Recovery Moon

breath ruach Head. Mostly clear. Lungs. Mostly clear. I’m beginning to feel the illness bidding me goodbye. So long, it was good to know ya. Nah, it wasn’t. And don’t come back, please.

Kate continues to show steady, if incremental, gains. She smiles more, laughs more. Until, that is, she opened the letter from Swedish Hospital advising us that our balance with them was $25,000. Oooff. Our insurance provider has not, for some reason, paid them. I get to chase that down today. Being sick in America. If the illness doesn’t get you, the debt collector will.

If we didn’t have resources, didn’t have enough education and chutzpah to front the insurance company about this, we might end up stuck with the bill. Kate’s experience since September has been long, invasive, and expensive. Without insurance we’d be eating away at our IRA. I don’t think this should be too hard to clear up; but the ominous nature of a letter like that creates an unpleasant frisson. To say the least.

I’m debating going to see my doc about o2 sats. They’re below normal, though not in a dangerous range. The high 80’s a good deal of the time. Normal is above 95, though above 90 nobody worries. Since we’ve gotten here, my sats have been around 90 most of the time. As Tom pointed out, we’ve lost 75% of our available oxygen just by being at 8,800 feet. That would make a normal reading 93 if I’m doing my math and physiology right.

breath in out I really don’t want to confuse Kate’s journey right now, especially since we see the same doc, so I may wait a bit, be sure the flight of respiratory illness I sampled over the last two months has actually ended. In time I would like to know if anything in my lungs compromises my breathing. It’s certainly possible. I smoked for 13 years. Not proud of it, but I did. I also worked in a couple of high particulate matter jobs in my younger days, cutting rags at a paper mill and moving completed asbestos ceiling tiles to pallets. And, Dad had severe asthma, using an inhaler virtually his whole life.

Ruach. The Hebrew word for breath, wind, and for spirit. The Greek word is pneuma. God breathed ruach into the lungs of Adam and he lived. Since the traditional test for death was holding a mirror or a hand up to the nostrils, no moisture on the mirror, no felt breath, it’s not a stretch to equate breath and breathing with life. No breath, no life. Many traditions, especially Hindu and Buddhist, have breathing related practices. So do the Sufi as my friend Debra Cope has taught me.

breath dive reflex What impedes breathing, impedes life itself. Impedes the spirit of all life that dwells within us. Like health breathing is unremarkable to most of us until its ease experiences an interruption. Water boarding, or extreme interrogation (not torture as our CIA likes to say), is horrific because it emulates drowning. Our body has reflexes built in, the diving reflex, for example, that protect us in the case of sudden immersion in water. This means that our DNA carries a history of dangers to our breathing.

The pulmonologist treats matters related to breathing. But the pulmonologist, no matter how skilled and learned, deals with the physical challenges to breathing, not the spiritual implications. No, that is up to us and our own way of understanding the body/mind/spirit links.

Breath jacob-wrestling-with-the-angel A breathing issue is not, then, solely the province of pulmonology. It is also the province of theology broadly understood. Theology, for me, is the way you identify, organize, and deal with matters of ultimate importance. Life itself is, of course, a matter of ultimate importance to an individual; therefore, life and how it is for us at any particular point is a directly theological matter. Breath, the spirit of life that fills our lungs, provides our cells with oxygen so that they can carry out the physiological functions that are life in the body, is also of ultimate importance.

Here’s a website devoted to breath meditation.* Note in the second sentence that prana, a Sanskrit word, means both breath and life. No breath. No life.

My journey right now forces me to investigate my breathing at both a physiological and a theological level. It’s all o.k., too. None of us get leave this ancientrail alive. Something takes our breath away. That something shows the fragile nature of even the most master of the universe sort of person. Right now I’m going to attend to my breathing, my o2 sats, the spirit and life they make possible within me. An ancientrail of the third phase, no doubt.

*Breath is the universal factor of life. We are born the first time we inspire, and we die the last time we expire. Breath is life itself. In Sanskrit the same word–prana–means both breath and life.

All that lives, breathes–even plants and the bacteria that make bread rise. The process of breath is identical in all, consisting of inhalation and exhalation. It is the most immaterial factor of our existence, being a link-manifestation of the mind/spirit that dwells in all. For this reason, the breath is the natural and logical basis for meditation, the attempt to “enter into life.” The breath is the key to the cultivation of pure consciousness.

Art and Culture, Commentary on Religion, Faith and Spirituality, Family, Health, Judaism, Memories, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, The West, Weather +Climate

The Velveteen Rabbit aspect of human identity

March 23, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Spring Recovery Moon

Bat and Moon, 1930s Takahashi Bihō. MIA — Bat and Moon, 1930s
Takahashi Bihō. MIA

The Recovery moon illuminates Black Mountain this morning. The ski runs carved out on the mountain are white strips reflecting back moon shine. A light breeze moves the lodgepoles and a thin dusting of snow covers the solar panels. Early spring in the Rockies.

Kate made a salad last night. We bumped into each other in our galley kitchen for the first time in months. She also tossed her friendship quilt from the Bailey Patchworkers into the washing machine. She’s beginning to emerge from a long time in the chrysalis of illness. Wow.

Since the recovery moon seems to find us both on the uptick, my doctor’s nurse called with lab results, actually a second call due to confusion there occasioned by a weeks long problem with their computer systems. The first call came when I was still pretty sick and I didn’t pay close attention. This time I did. My PSA has moved up from .o1 to .012. Doesn’t seem like much, but when your prostate’s gone, it’s supposed to stay at .1, which is effectively .0. A recurrence is defined, for those of us who had our prostate’s removed, when the PSA hits .2. Concerning, but not yet a problem. Further testing required.

Rabbi Jamie called last night, wondering how we were. We were both steady and frequent attenders of things at CBE up until Kate’s bleed on September 28th. I continued until my own illness which began in early February. Since then, I’ve only been back for the chicken soup cook-off. Our sudden disappearance from the synagogue’s life caused him to say last time he talked with Kate that the schul isn’t the same without us. Kate was on the board and I was teaching religious school. We both attended mussar on Thursdays. We went to services less frequently, but showed up at education and special events, too. We’ve woven ourselves into the fabric that is CBE.

Chapter House from Notre-Dame-de-Pontaut,12th century French MMA

Community, like friendships, is reciprocal. You put your left foot in, then your right foot, then you shake it all about. With others doing the same thing. Over time we get to know each other, see each other, acknowledge each other. The line between thee and me is both more and less than we usually think. It’s more in that we don’t know our own selves well, our own depths eluding even the most introspective and life examining of us. How could others see into that, then? It’s less in that our perception of ourselves is constantly poked and prodded by interactions with others. In fact, much of our personhood gains definition as we sit down to coffee with someone, engage in critical thought, listen to music, sing with them. In community, in friendships, in family we become who we are.

At CBE, as with the Woolly’s, the docents, the political folks I’ve worked with, and our family, who I am has been in dialectical tension with both individuals and the collective. I’ve had to consider how Frank Broderick’s anti-Catholicism fits into my mostly positive assessment of religious life. I’ve offered ideas at CBE and had them put into action, changing myself and others in the process. As I got to know my fellow docents, I observed how they related to the art, to the art history we learned, to the museum visitors we guided on tours. And, how I was as a docent shaped itself in response.

Woolly Mammoths instructed in glass blowing

In the instance of the Presbyterian ministry the two millennia plus history of Christianity was a body of thought and actions within which I had to find my particular place just like the thousands of year old history of art demanded I find a personal patch of ground on which to stand in relation to it. Both interactions shaped me and I, in turn, in small, individual ways reshaped both Christianity and the history of art. Not making a big, hubristic claim here, just observing that the dialectical tension affects both parties though not in equal ways.

This is, I suppose, the Velveteen Rabbit part of human identity formation. We rub ourselves up against people, animals, things and in the process we become real. And, we serve that same role for others. It’s an awesome responsibility. How do I, in my interactions, encourage the best in others? Or, do I? But that’s a question for another day.

Family, Health

Oh, Boy! More health news.

March 22, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Spring Recovery Moon

disease A visit to the pulmonologist. Dr. Gupta, looked very medical in blue scrubs, said Kate’s pulmonary function test wasn’t helpful. He didn’t say why, “Looks like a bad test.” He postponed the j-tube surgery yet again, instead ordering a hi-resolution ct scan. This will look for evidence of interstitial lung disease, in particular inflammation or scarring. It will also help them identify the cause of any lung disease, which, in the case of interstitial lung disease, is critical to its treatment though I don’t recall why. Short version. Another week before we know anything definite. Kate says she feels suspended.

On the way home we drove further west to a suburban outpost of Maria’s Empanadas and picked up a dozen, 6 mushroom and cheese, six Argentinas (meat). When we get them home, I put them in individual sandwich bags and Kate uses them as instant meals. I picked up a Larkburger.

Having my own issues with o2 stats. I imagine it’s largely sequelae to the flu/pneumonia/cold/sinus infection couple of months that I’ve had, but we’ll have to see. Ever since we moved here my o2 stats have been just in the normal range up here, pretty good down at the drs. office. They’ve moved a bit lower, which puts them in a range that can cause problems like light-headedness, shortness of breath, hypoxia, in other words. I might need to go see Dr. Gupta, too, at some point. Oh, joy.

We have three days now of no doctor appointments, no pt/ot visits, no nurse visits, nothing on the calendar. Feels like bliss. I plan to rest. Again, still. I’m mostly over the last few weeks of sampling various respiratory illnesses. Head feels almost clear. Lungs still produce the occasional cough. Stamina improving, but not back to 100% yet.

This steady beat of health news is, I know, tedious. Yet, it is our reality now and has been for quite some time. It is an ancientrail, perhaps one of the most ancient. Life is oddly unremarkable from a health perspective until it’s not. Then, life revolves around returning to the unremarkable state. In the third phase, however, we are aware that returning to the unremarkable state may not be available to us.

I’ve mentioned what I call mortality signals before, those moments when you become aware your body will not always function normally, a signal that eventually it will cease to function altogether. Those are mostly second phase. Though they still occur in the third phase, by this time the lesson has been repeated many times and you’ve heard it and accepted it or in solid denial.

This realization that the body may not return to the unremarkable state we enjoyed in our adulthood can be an existential crisis depending on the severity of the deviation. This is why folks so often say getting old is not for the weak-hearted. Kate has been deep in this crisis for a long time now, coping with it in a mostly positive way. I’m in some level of denial since I keep believing that exercise, good diet, and now deep-breathing will fix me. At some point it won’t.

I miss them still

March 21, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Spring Recovery Moon

Today is Kate’s pulmonology appointment. Another key moment on this journey. Is she fit enough for surgery to place the j-tube? Does she have some lung disease? And, a week delayed.

The cold. My cold, that is, and it’s follow on sinus infection has begun to lose its grip. Glimpses of normalcy, breathing freely. Is this it? The end to this seven weeks of this and that rattling around in my blood stream, squeezing my lungs, filling my head? I sure hope so. May do a little dance.

Ironies. Judge Gorsuch, a Colorado deep conservative appointed to the court by he who shall not be named, has sided with the liberal judges on a Yakima Indian treaty dispute. Being a Westerner, he’s been exposed to much more Indian law than any other member of the court. Not sure where he stands on public lands. Guess we take what we can get in this moment of conservative judges dominant in our judiciary.

Weather here unremarkable. Warmer, blue skies, great clouds.

On art. 12 years at the MIA opened my heart, my mind to the strange world of art. Not that I hadn’t visited before. Ever since I spent time in the small museum on the campus of Ball State I’ve haunted museums, art fairs, galleries. But then I was an art appreciator in a very random way. I had little context, little history of the art I saw. After my two year class on art history in preparation for being a docent, I had at least a modest grasp of the history of world art. As I prepared for tours, went to continuing education, that knowledge grew.

I’ve been frustrated since leaving the MIA with my inability to interact with art on a regular basis. That’s one reason I started painting. I wanted that intimacy I had while at the MIA. For a few years after my docent training, the museum, closed on Mondays, allowed docents to be in the museum that day. That meant a chance to experience the art with no crowds, almost no other people.

I loved those Mondays and would wander happily through the Chinese paintings, the Japanese teaware, the 19th century galleries filled with Delacroix, Goya, Courbet, Gerome, Cole, Church, Bierstadt. I could spend time with Rembrandt’s Lucretia, Dorphyoros, Goya’s Dr. Arrieta, as much time as I wanted.

To know a work of art well you need to see it in person, spend time with it over weeks and years. Let it speak to you as the artist hoped it would with color, with shape, with composition, with subject matter, with brush strokes and chiaroscuro, with its own, often centuries long story. The works become your friends, acquaintances who teach you, let you be your self, but also be affected at a soul level. I miss that still though my friends from the MIA live on in my memory, with me here on Shadow Mountain.

Art and Culture, Family, Health

Malaise

March 19, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

Kate’s above 84 pounds now! The tpn is working and the results are what we expected. We got Kate’s pulmonology appointment rescheduled for this Thursday. Gupta will decide on her fitness for surgery for the j-tube and we’ll get his reading of the ct scan. Potential interstitial lung disease. An important day.

This Thursday she goes on a 14 hours on, 10 hours off schedule with the tpn feeding. They couldn’t go down to 12 and 12 due to the volume of the feeding solution. That will give her 10 hours without the black bag to carry around.

I wish I could report my cold was resolving, but it isn’t. Seems to have slipped over into a sinus infection. Just one more turn of the screw. Oh, well. Major issue. More malaise. This aspect of illness I’d never truly appreciated before. The body needs to devote its energy to fending off the intruders which means it has little left over for daily life. After now having been sick myself for over six weeks (with a brief recovery respite before the cold showed up), I get the burden that Sjogren’s and malnourishment has visited on Kate. I saw it before, of course, but now I get it in my body.

Goya's, Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art — Goya’s Self-Portrait with Dr. Arrieta. Mpls Museum of Art

Malaise is a side effect, but it’s damaging, too. Every aspect of living takes more effort. Getting up. Staying up. Walking to the mail box. Cooking. Taking care of the dogs. All done on legs that don’t want to be standing, with arms that don’t want to lift, with hands that ache. In the short term the malaise is good because it signals your body to rest. I’ve got this, but you need to slow down while I fight.

Over a longer duration, six weeks now for me, and months now for Kate, it drags us down mentally. I can’t do the things I love, or only in short bursts, not good enough for, say, painting or writing. Even important self maintenance like cooking can seem too much. When I neglect those sorts of things, I feel bad. And the feeling can soak in, change the inner weather. In this regard I marvel that Kate has been able so often to stay centered, to adjust to the constant malaise, the constant weakness. It requires mental strength, constantly applied.

This painting, my favorite at the MIA and, I discovered, Kaywin Feldman’s too, (Director of the MIA now headed to the National Gallery) shows extreme malaise. The way Goya’s hand grips the sheet, so slightly, his head tilted over, the wan coloration of his skin. Barely visible, even when in the painting’s presence are shadowy figures, look to Arrieta’s right elbow, just over Goya’s left shoulder, are ghostly figures. His ancestors? The dead, whom he felt he might join? Or the sense of evanescence he feels, part way in this world, part way out of it?

But. the malaise and these illnesses will pass, just as they did for the grateful Goya. Someday, sooner I hope, rather than later, I’ll be motoring along at a more usual speed. Able to cook, work, go to CBE occasionally. That’s my future and I look forward to it. But, today. Moving slow, swimming in molasses.

Cooking, Family, Health, Politics

Go, Kate

March 16, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

IMAG0139 Kate’s tpn feedings have given her energy. She’s finishing our taxes, for some reason she likes to do them, and in doing so has walked up and down the stairs to our third level twice. She hasn’t done that in months. When I compare where she is now with the dark days just after the bleed in September and the hemicolectomy, she’s a new woman. Is there a distance still to go? Yes. And a significant distance, too, but that doesn’t diminish the gains she’s made. Go, Kate.

My cold continues. Blah. Slowed down now as much by Nyquil as the cold itself. Blah. And, baa.

Picking up an Irish dinner from Tony’s today: colcannon, corned beef and cabbage, irish soda bread. Jon and the kids are coming up tonight. Tomorrow is the chicken soup competition at CBE. A food oriented weekend. But, comfort food, for sure.

Worrying. The shooting in New Zealand. The guy was influenced by social media, a version of internet radicalization. This means that even without intentional recruitment the spread of poison speech by cyber means has the capacity to generate murder and terror. Of course, books did it, too, but they’re not as accessible and often not in the hands of those likely to be affected by them.

Dogs, Family, Health, Mountains, Science, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, Weather +Climate

Pi Day!

March 15, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

Happy Pi day! I know it’s irrational, but pi’s got that kind of attitude. Will you be going to a recitation of pi? Some people will. Yes, that’s a thing. I like this day devoted to a mathematical phenom. I mean, who hasn’t heard of pi? And, it’s another holiday.

Our roof has curves. It looks like a sculpted chalet with deep sine waves marking the edges along the gutters and bulging hat shapes at the top. The road grader’s been by, guess the sagging power lines have returned to normal. This was a big one, stopping traffic in the mountains for a day.

Kate got her new delivery from Option Care yesterday rather than Wednesday. With the new pump we’ve got her on a 16 hours on, 8 hours off schedule now. Much better for living a life. She’ll be off pump from 10 am to 6 pm. She got some tasks done paid the bills, got started on the taxes. Her mood improved dramatically. As she gains weight and returns from malnourishment to normal, her energy level has increased and her spirits have improved. As she’s able to do more, she’ll feel even better.

Frustrating that we couldn’t see Gupta yesterday since the results of both the pulmonary function test and the CT scan have direct bearing on where we go next. Next week, I imagine.

20190313_134135 — Gertie, ready to leap in the snow

My cold continues. Sneezing, coughing, generally feeling crummy. Hard to take since I had just begun to feel normal when it arrived. Still, as Kate said, it won’t last forever. Glad.

The dogs have found the snow a joy and a burden. It comes up to their chests, even Rigel’s, and they walk through it deliberately. Kep loves the snow and stays out much longer than Rigel and Gertie. He wanders all over the yard, poking his nose here, then there. Gertie goes outside and immediately plunges her head into a snowbank. She comes inside snow sticking all over her face. Even so there were times yesterday when Rigel didn’t want to go outside. Too much work, I imagine. Gertie, too. Kep? Nope. He goes outside eagerly.

When spring comes close, that’s how we roll up here on Shadow Mountain.

Cooking, Family, Friends, Health, Weather +Climate

CNS. Bombogenesis.

March 13, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

I’m ready for my third recovery in a month and a half. Looking forward to it. Not yet. Buddy Tom Crane should be on the road to recovery under the recovery moon, too. Kate’s gaining weight. Maybe a trifecta here.

cns challenge Today is chicken soup day. I have a simple truth organic chicken thawed in the refrigerator. It comes out to warm up to room temp. All the ingredients are here. I had to go buy some peas yesterday since I used the original pack in the fried rice I made. Friend Bill Schmidt looked up the Gold’n Plump Chicken soup recipe. It was there, floating out in the internet’s wide reach. It’s simple. Much as I do it now though I’ve added a tweek or two. Some garlic. Deglazing with white wine. Paul Prudhomme’s Chicken Magic. Kate had the bright idea of making our matzo balls green since the CBE competition is on St. Patrick’s Day. I’ll offer green matzo balls and egg noodles as additives.

A great day to make soup. Gonna be a big storm, already underway. Maybe 6-12 inches. Record low barometer readings. One reading in Kansas is lower than any data point in 140 years. Bombogenesis* may happen here. It’s been a good year for the snow pack with all watersheds reporting at least 127% of median years. The all important Colorado River basin is at 136%. Hoping this storm adds to those percentages.

Still generally demotivated except for home, Kate, and dogs. This will lift.

20190312_083623 Mary, she persevered. Sister Mary. When my father died, she insisted that he had a portion of an oil well that should come down to herself, Mark, and me. It took her some time and some legal work, but I got in the mail this week three letters from Roan Resources detailing how we make our claim legitimate.

This oil well is in Canadian County, Oklahoma and I have no idea how Dad became a part owner. He and his siblings were all on it. I remember very well our first check, it folded out seven times, was from Sinclair Oil, and was for fifteen cents. Dad cashed it and gave the money to us kids for bubble gum. Of course, we’re now dividing his share into three, leaving us each with what Roan say is a 0.00015625 percent interest in the well. Probably not gonna get rich.

This means we own land in Texas and have oil well shares. I’m not heading over to the Cadillac dealer quite yet.

*”Bombogenesis, a popular term used by meteorologists, occurs when a midlatitude cyclone rapidly intensifies, dropping at least 24 millibars over 24 hours. A millibar measures atmospheric pressure. This can happen when a cold air mass collides with a warm air mass, such as air over warm ocean waters. The formation of this rapidly strengthening weather system is a process called bombogenesis, which creates what is known as a bomb cyclone.” NOAA

Family, Health

Kate

March 12, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

A cold. Just to round things out, make sure I don’t miss any chance to boost my immune system. Kate, “Clusters of illnesses are common.” “Is that because the immune system is temporarily compromised?” “Yes.” Sigh. Not terrible, sneezing and such, mild malaise. But. Enough already. Canceled my new workout appointments because I don’t feel well and don’t want to expose others. Next week.

Kate will go to a 16 hour feeding schedule on Thursday. That will give her 8 hours of freedom from the nutrition bag and the pump. If she continues on with the tpn, next week she’ll go to 12 hours feeding, 12 off. That’s the final stepdown, I believe. Carrying her tpn pack with the nutrition bag, which is heavy, and trailing the tubing that connects it to her picc line, is made more complicated by the tubing that connects her to the oxygen concentrator. A fall hazard for sure. 8 hours of not having to juggle all that stuff will be great for her.

We saw her rheumatologist yesterday. A hell of nice guy, sweet. He told a funny 20190311_100818 story. His teenage son took his cell phone and created a ringtone using rap music. He didn’t know. He was in with a patient, he said, when all of a sudden, “Then the motherfucker did this, and the motherfucker did that…” started coming from his phone. He’s a good enough guy to see the humor.

This fellow was on his windowsill.

Kate commented yesterday on how tiring it is to be sick. All the doctor visits. Schlepping the tpn bag, the portable oxygen concentrator, using the rollator. And, I added, the anxiety that each visit might bring bad news. This is in addition to the actual illness, the Sjogren’s, the malnourishment and weight loss, whatever lung issues she may have. This has been her life, acutely now since September 28th, and at a more chronic level for almost 18 months. It takes a strong spirit to stay centered, keep a positive attitude. And she’s done that. Most of the time.

On Thursday we see Dr. Gupta, the pulmonologist. He will have the results of the pulmonary function test she took last Thursday and his reading of the CT scan from her pneumothorax hospitalization. Two key and very important learnings for us will happen in that visit.

lung First, is Kate strong enough to withstand the surgery that would place the j-tube? My lay opinion is that she is, based largely on how she handled the hemicolectomy (removal of part of her right bowel) under the stress of all that had come prior to that with the bleed. Still, I do see Edwin Smith’s point that killing her to cure her is not the best course of action, so knowing her lung capacity is crucial. Gupta will tell us.

Second, and just as important for her future, is his reading of the CT scan. Does she have an interstitial lung disease? The pulmonologist at Swedish who ordered the CT thought there might be indications of it. I’m not sure what this means long term, but it could mean that there is a treatment for her breathing issues. Her rheumatologist said, “If there’s interstitial lung disease, I can treat that.”

So, no pressure.

The j-tube will improve the whole feeding process since it requires none of the sterile procedures of the tpn and uses gravity to move the nutrition.

Friend Tom Crane says his pneumonia has begun to ratchet down. Hallelujah.

Cooking, Family, Great Work, Health, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Third Phase, US History

When Will It Ever End?

March 11, 2019 Charles Leave a comment

Imbolc Recovery Moon

Going to On the Move Fitness to pick up a new workout on Tuesday. Then, back on Thursday to make sure I have the exercises down. This will be a gradual ramp up back to where I was before the month that shall not be named. Buddy Tom Crane, in a surprising show of solidarity, chose to have pneumonia over his birthday, too. Which is today. Not necessary, Tom.

I’ve been using the Instant Pot. Made a wonderful chuck roast, shredded easily, tasted great. On Saturday I made rice. Turns out three cups of dry rice makes a lot of cooked rice. It cooked for 1 minute. Sort of. There’s a learning curve for guys like me. First, the instant pot, a pressure cooker with bells and a literal whistle, has to heat up to the temperature required to produce the right pressure. That can take a while, maybe 5-10 minutes. Then, it cooks for 1 minute in the instance of rice. Fast, right? Well, yes. But, with foods like rice that have liquid and plump up after cooking, you do what the instant pot cook books call natural release. In essence that means you wait until the pressure cooker depressurizes on its own. 10 minutes. So, to cook 1 minute takes around 20 minutes in real time. Has some resonance with DST.

Before I start posting here I look at my favorite comic, Questionable Content. You have to go back several months to get the drift. Then, I often move on to Ancientrails and begin to write. But, just as often, I think, “I wonder what the idiot did now?” That means turning to the NYT. He almost never disappoints. Like cutting social programs, plumping up the military, and cutting 8.6 billion dollars out of the total budget to build this shibboleth. Team Trump is one heroic gutted, long red tied, obsessive ideologue trying to do something he doesn’t understand, using tools he doesn’t understand. When will it ever end, as the 1972 song by the Awakening asked.

20190117_103526 — And Big Foot’s gone even further into the mountains.

There was a time, not that long ago in historical terms, when being in the Rockies, living on a mountain peak as Kate and I do, would have been an effective shield against the current chaos and cruelty that passes for the U.S. Executive Branch. Not today. The elk, the mule deer, the bears, the mountain lions, moose, bobcats, fox, fishers, and martins still live here, but even these wild inhabitants cower before the Trump. He appoints people like Ray Zinke to watch over the great public lands of the West. He dismantles clean air regulations. He loosens the rules governing hard rock mining. He opens those same public lands to oil drilling, uranium mining, and industrial forestry. When. Will. It. Ever. End.

Even the mythical, or semi-mythical creatures of the Rockies are under siege, too.