Category Archives: Cooking

Acting, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Health, Hermitage, Memories, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Plants, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Travel

Androgyny. Needs and Desires.

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Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Thursday grateful: Running lines with Alan. The Campfire. That pastrami sandwich. Feeling conflicted. Money. Trips. Axumin scan. Long term care insurance premium. Maybe a new (read expensive) hot water heater. Friends. Family. Travel. A need for rest, time away. How to reconcile. The synagogue. Luke. Rebecca. Jamie. Marilyn and Irv. Kep. So excited in the morning. Food, dad, food!

Sparks of Joy and Awe: It’s a ladle (not a spoon, you dumb ignoramus!) a line from the Odd Couple

Tarot: The Seer, #2 of the major arcana

“With the innate ability to balance emotions and the power of will and source of knowledge, The Seer encourages us to change the ordinary material world. She uses all of The Wildwood’s natural resources skillfully. She nurtures positive changes in people’s minds, expressed through emotions and commitment to life. Her magic is one of the purest and most revered things on earth.”  tarotx.net

 

Androgyny. Quite a ways back Kate paid me a compliment, one I’ve treasured. “You’re the most androgynous person I know, Charlie.” I value the balance of yin and yang, of the feminine and the masculine. In me. I love being a sensitive man who will knock down injustice. I love cooking, raising kids, keeping a nice house. The chainsaw and I were one. Back when I could still hold one. The axe, too. I loved gardening, the labor of it and the nurture of plants. Raising dogs and caring for them when they’re sick. I loved being in relationship with Kate.

The Seer and I are old friends. Her feminine intuition, her link to Mother Earth. I feel them. Honor them. Honor her. She was the one who told me, “You need to be a Dad.” And, I listened. She was the one who told me, “You need to write.” And, I did. She was the one who told me, “Marry Kate. Right now.” I did. I listen to her as often as I can, as closely as possible. She was the one who told me, “Move to Colorado. Be close to Ruth and Gabe as they grow up.” And, we did. I have never regretted hearing her voice.

Drawing this card today reminds me to collect the information I’ve gleaned over the last year and two months since Kate died. To listen to the Seer once again. Hear her advice on what happens next. What I need to do now. Listening.

 

I’ve put myself in a box. One of my own making, one that expresses deep desires but may not conform, right now, to my reality. I really want to go to Durango with Tom. I really want to see the Redwoods with Diane. I really want to extend my reunion trip and visit Sarah and Jerry at Belews Creek. But. In August I have my Axumin scan. Over a thousand bucks. Then in September my long term care insurance comes due. Three and half times that. Plus I may need a new water heater. Maybe more than the two combined.

Money. I have enough. Yes. But not more than enough. I so want to go places, see other people. But. I may have to settle for Hawai’i until I’ve seen my way through these big expenses. Adulting. Bah, Bah. Gonna have to count my pennies again. Stay tuned.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains

To Bailey, To Evergreen, And Home Again

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Spring and Seoah’s Citizenship Moon

Thursday gratefuls: David Sanders. Mussar. Award Winning Pet Grooming. Amanda. A clean, much more slender Kep. His schedule with Amanda. Good Will in Evergreen. Last of the pruning gone. More, still much more to come. Pruning. Energy. Eigner. More blood work next week. Diane. Mediterranean diet. Milk Street cookbook, thanks Ode.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kep smells so good!

 

Yesterday. Wrote Ancientrails. And posted it to the web! Glad to have that back as a regular event.

Took Kep to Bailey to Award Winning Pet Grooming. Amanda is a sweetheart. Dropped him off, then turned around and drove back to Evergreen. Goodwill Donation Center. It was very windy, not too cold unless a blast of air caught you. Gusts in the 60 mph range.

I tried to get somebody to help me unload. Still thinking, I can’t do this. Not sure why but I couldn’t find anybody. The back, filled with large gray plastic bins for sorting donations, had someone carrying in a student desk (I could see it over the bins), but no one responded.

Ah well. I started unloading. Huh. This isn’t so bad. I finished with ease. Not huffing and puffing, not feeling like I needed a nap or a good long sitdown. Huh. This is just weird. I thought. But good weird. Yeah.

The trip to Evergreen took about 45 minutes. Amanda said to figure three hours for Kep, maybe two if he was ok with the whole process. Turned around and drove back to Bailey.

Thanks, Ode

Earlier in the day I talked to my cousin Diane who lives in the land of the salad eaters, San Francisco. She saw my mention of constipation and said I wouldn’t have it if I went full Mediterranean diet. Oh.

Told her before she mentioned that that I’ve been able to keep at exercising because it gives me a right now benefit. I feel better. Today. Psychically and physically. Also helps with sleep. But diet? No immediate payoff, so I’ve not been able to switch.

She had a meat and potatoes diet growing up, the same as me. But, she said, living in the Bay Area had gradually weaned her from the Midwest heart attack/stroke focused diet to one favored by the Levant. She encouraged me, again. Thanks, Diane.

Realized as I drove back from Evergreen. Constipation. Mediterranean diet and no constipation. That’s a right now positive effect. Like exercise. OK. That makes sense.

Not too far from China Village. Gives the flavor of Bailey and Park County

Decided to try Golden Pines Chinese in Pine Junction, about half way back to Bailey. Easy to go Mediterranean there. Nope. Closed for a “much needed family reunion.” OK. On t the Riverbend for a salad. The Riverbend doesn’t open until 3 pm, I learned. Well. I’ll have a final old style breakfast at the Cut Throat Cafe. Chairs up on tables there. Well, damn.

China Village. This restaurant, attached to a run down motel, had been on my avoid list since I first saw it. It appeared, however, to be only place open in all of Bailey. No, there’s not much to Bailey, but even so.

Really good. I had salt and pepper shrimp on a bed of cabbage with red and green peppers, onions. Wonderful. A bit basic on the service side. Paper plate. Wooden chopsticks replace other diners plastic fork. A plastic tumbler for water. The tea was fine and plentiful.

All squeeky clean

As I paid, $20 with tip, a deal these days, Award Winning Pet Grooming called. Kep was done. Got over there in about three minutes. Kep jumped up on me. He’s always relieved when I pick him up. Thinks he’s been left for good.

He’s now on an 8 week grooming schedule. We’ll see. Amanda thought that should solve my dog hair problem. I decided I couldn’t take anymore tufts of dog hair. If 8 doesn’t do it, we’ll try six. We went home.

Footnote: I did have some energy left, but I felt like I’d earned a rest. Which means. Now that I have more energy I have to recalibrate, decide what to do with this new superpower. A happy problem. I remember happy problems, just haven’t had too many in the last few years.

 

Astrology, Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Memories, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Learning Curve Trending Down

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Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. My phone, which reminds me when 6 am is now. Darkness again. Sadness. Ukraine. Russia. War. Peace. That Dragonfly lamp. The slowness of things just now. The Ancient Brothers. And their still more ancient fathers and grandfathers. Including the con man, the Irishmen, the one in green flannel underwear.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Finding the stock pot and the mixing bowls

 

Ah, the simple joys of kitchen remodeling. I put the stockpot up over the refrigerator, but when I first looked I saw only the second shelf akimbo. It was too heavy for me to lift into place. Can’t be there. Left hand cabinet door. Later, when I decided to look everywhere, I opened the right door and there was one of my favorite kitchen tools on a bias at the other end of the slanted shelf. Really? I did that? Yep.

And the mixing bowls. Determined I went through everything again. Then, there they were. Again, right where I’d put them behind the Pyrex measuring bowls, sort of hidden. Whew. Not crazy.

Bouncing between final moves on the furniture rearrangement and the kitchen reassemble. Both take time and energy. The end results I love. But still more slogging to go. A ways to go before I finish. At this pace? Maybe a month.

I took a big check over to Jodi at Blue Mountain Kitchens on Friday. Bowe still has to come out and finish a few things. Minor. Convince one drawer to glide easily. Some staining. A filler piece between the dishwasher and the sink.

Nausea has begun to get in the way, too. Damn. That’s no fun at all. This Erleada may be important, but it’s not very friendly. Hot flashes seem to have disappeared. Bowels a bit happier. Fatigue, stamina, and my tummy-not so much.

Wrote a piece about astrology for the final class tomorrow. I’ll append it here*. Feels like a fail for me. Might be, might not.

One similar tale. Long ago. Logic, my freshmen year at Wabash. I had done fine in Philosophy 101, all my other classes, too, except German. Which I dropped. Second semester I took Logic from Professor Larry Hackestaff, notable for wandering the green with a six pack of Bud dangling from his side, his belt run through an empty plastic ring. The beer looked like a large set janitor’s keys. Perhaps to the unconscious?

It wasn’t happening for me. I listened to his lectures. I studied hard. I flunked an early test. Oh, god. Was this going to be my first grade below a B ever? And maybe an F? How could this be? Couldn’t imagine. Shame. Fear. Anxiety. None of which helped me of course. It was around this time I got diagnosed with a spastic colon, now irritable bowel, I think.

And then. One morning in the library, in my favorite carrel, I pushed one more time and the world of logic opened up to me, blossomed. The law of excluded middle. Yes. Proofs. Yes. It was fun. A puzzle. Riddles within riddles. Aced the midterm and the final. Felt like I’d strapped myself to the mast like Odysseus, escaping the Sirens of doubt.

Maybe someday I’ll have a similar experience with astrology. Not now. Not sure when I’ll go back to it. Maybe soon, maybe never.

It’s weird because the Tarot has become a daily part of my spiritual practice. I thought astrology would, too. Apparently not.

Breakfast now. Then over to see Dr. Gonzalez, see if we can figure out the fatigue-stamina-nausea trio. Does make me feel a bit fragile. A feeling I don’t like.

 

 

*Astrology and me

A learning curve difficult to surmount. Not sure why. Usually. Fast into the wheelhouse of an idea. This subject. Not so much.

Part of it no doubt is my bedrock empiricism which can swing close to scientism, something I despise. Part of it is a lifetime of seeing the astrology columns in newspapers and reading them for amusement or entertainment. Part of it is a strong existentialism which finds it hard to give outside influence impact over my life. Part of it is the how. How can this be? How can this work? Maybe it’s the wrong moment in my life.

These classes have helped me. I now have a better grasp of the elements of astrology, still unable to put them together with any ease. Not even sure how I can advance. Perhaps I need to go back to work with Elisa on my chart. Learn it. Get it down.

Got to admit this troubles me. A strong part of me relies on intellect. Another strong part of me relies on the heart. At my current age I’d say they are in balance. When my intellect finds it hard to crack the code of a subject, I feel hesitant, reluctant to dig deeper. I had the same issue with languages. Just. Real. Hard.

I wish I had a better way of describing my journey. Yes, I’m intrigued that my chart seems to get some parts of me right. Yes, I’m intrigued by the idea of transits inflecting our lives as the planets move. But moving past intrigue into using astrology as a tool for my own journey? Still not there, after two private readings and two wonderful classes.

Leaving this path with way more questions than answers.

But, as Douglas Adams said, Thanks for all the fish.

 

 

Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Judaism, Literature, Shadow Mountain

Life. Changing.

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Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Monday gratefuls: Kep. Beside me right now, my new loft dog. And my bed warmer. Furniture moved, clutter being forwarded to new, organized locations. Peter coming to hang Herme. Vince who will hang much of my very big art. A whole wall dedicated to Kate, art she loved. The Ukraine. Resistance to tyranny. Always. The way the world was. The way it might yet be. Kate, always Kate. Our 32nd anniversary on Thursday, March 10th.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

 

Spent yesterday moving furniture. Boxes. Bongs. Dog toys. Judaica. Electronics. Purposeful piles of paper. Collections of recipes not yet put in binders. Oh, and books. Always, books. Five more boxes for donations are beside the door ready to load into Ruby. These will go to Goodwill in Evergreen. Easier.

Scoping out the hanging art situation. Vince will be back.  These suckers are heavy. An antique map of the Big Island, a gift from Kate. The second of two of Jerry’s large landscapes. Four or five pieces including Love is Enough, Kate’s retirement present, and her 75th birthday present. Not yet. Not quite. Have to shim up the bookcase. Do a little more kitchen work. Peter will come for Herme. Hopefully this week.

I can see it now. The bones of the new look are in place. Things may require re-organizing as time goes on and as I see how the spaces get used. The kitchen still has a long way to go. The pantry needs creating. With storage containers and spots for all the appliances, large pots and pan. Winnowing and replenishing. I can finish by mid-March.

It will rock my world in a good way when all the pieces are in place. Including the loft. I’m going to have Marina’s crew clean the loft next week, then dive into finishing the re-organizing I started after Kate’s death. Spring. Renewal and rebirth. New life.

Almost done with the Becky Chamber’s series that began with A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet. This is character work at its most ingenious, fleshing out-as it were-not only human personalities, but Aeulons, Harmagians, and Aandrisks. Read the books to see what they are. Worth it.

Next up is Beginner’s Magic, then Ada Palmer’s work. Or, maybe Overstory by Richard Powers. Ruth’s reading that one so I may break out of my sci-fi thing for lit fic. Now that the common room and my level have achieved near lift off I’ll get to reading more. Including non-fiction. Back to the Irreducible Mind. Breathe. The Werewolf in the Ancient World.

I’ve cut my TV watching in half or more. Reading. Glad. However I do have favorites: The Qin Empire: Alliance, Juvenile Justice. Hotel del Luna. Vox Machina. Pennyworth. The Righteous Gemstones. The Book of Bobba Fett. I love access to tv shows made by different nationalities with their own cultural biases and ways of telling stories. Talking story, as the Hawai’ians call it.

The Qin Empire Alliance is one of those. An historical epic, which I also enjoy, about the Warring States period in China. Serialization of a really long book by Sun Haohui. Same title. Five million words. I mean, wow. He wants the series to run up to a 100 episodes. Hope it does because it’s fascinating. I’d read the book, but it has no English translation yet. The longest book I’ve ever read was not War and Peace, which I have read, but The Romance of the Three Kingdoms, a key classic in Chinese literature with several English translations, most of them bad.

At the most demanding time of Kate’s illness I didn’t have much energy for study or writing. So, I watched TV. My favorite in that time period was Resurrection: Ertugrul. It has five seasons and varied in number of episodes from 76 to 90 per season. It calmed me down to revisit this world for several weeks in a row. I could watch TV and be close to Kate who slept nearby.

Wondering now if writing is my thing, or is study? If it is study, to what end? Or, does there have to be an end? A goal beyond learning. Judaism prizes scholarship with no purpose, no reward. I do, too. Might be another reason why I like Judaism so much.

On to making a Container Store order. Organizing kitchen stuff, cabinet by cabinet, shelf by shelf. Fun.

 

Asia, Astrology, Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Garden, Great Wheel, Great Work, Health, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Mind Blown

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Past lives. Near death experiences. Mystical experience. Reincarnation. Ode. Cooking. The meister chef, Tom. Cabbage and beef soup. Catfish. Chicken potpies. Rigel. Drinking. Ruth, so much better. Jon, too. Gabe, puzzling. My mind twisting round. The lamp, Ruth assembled. Swapping out coffee tables, the new one down here. The old one upstairs.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Reincarnation

 

Mind. Blown. Where to? Don’t know. That ship haha has sailed. Into the area of the map famously identified by: Here there be monsters. Or, angels. Or, Grandma. Or, the Otherworld.

My buddy, Ode, who has long insisted that reincarnation is a fact, long proven, as might a friend of both Terence and Dennis McKenna, has finally pushed me aboard the good ship Beyond. As most of the scientists in the video below claim, I don’t know where the ship has set sail for, nor how to interpret the evidence in a definitive way. But I’m aboard, maybe as a reluctant stowaway, but I want in on this journey.

No accidents. Not sure this idea and the idea of post mortem consciousness belong together; however, it is the case that for the last four years plus I’ve studied kabbalah, an ancient Jewish mystical philosophy that includes reincarnation as a reasonable and accepted part of its world (otherworld) view.

Astrology, too, as well. A brand of this even more ancient discipline called Evolutionary Astrology which presupposes reincarnation and strong hints about yours revealed by the nodes of the moon in your natal chart.

You might say, well, Kate’s dead so these ideas have more traction? Or, this is the day before your 75th birthday. What better time to throw on a sash that reads, Reincarnated! An escape hatch at last.

Those could influence me, I suppose, but all my life I’ve thought on my own, accepting ideas and rejecting ideas because they listen well in my inner chambers of judgment. Or, because they seem like nonsense. The video below listens well there.

An old and strong aspect of my thought could be called flat earth humanism, or as Ed in the video rightly calls it, physicalism. Materialism in its fancy philosophical dress clothes. Existentialist me, a Camus influenced college part of me, faced the darkness unafraid. Willing to make my own meaning. Living because I wanted to live, not because I had to and not because anyone told me how.

That Alexandria First Methodist guy, a young one, had some notion of the afterlife. My mother’s death at 47 took it to the grave along with her. Not fair. Not fair at all. Therefore neither just nor loving, both attributes of the one, the true, the mighty.

A while later I picked up the Christian mantle again and threw it over my shoulders, but this time I was not interested in the next world, but this one. How might we live here? Right here amidst war, the Vietnam War, economic injustice, racial and gender discrimination? I found answers in old Jewish notions of just kingship and a New Testament that demanded extension of love and compassion to the poorest and most despised among us.

Nowadays the Great Wheel, that pagan metaphor of life’s seasons, including the long fallow one in which we temperate folks find ourselves right now, guides my thinking. I can fold this post mortem idea into it.

This is a willed rejection of Wittgenstein in the Tractatus when he says: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. I shared this chivalric reticence, its honesty, for a long, long time. Now I feel it reveals fear rather than expressing a stoic truth.

Over the course of the next few years I plan to continue my study of kabbalah, astrology, and tarot. I ordered the three books of Edward Kelly. Gonna read them. I’m also reading two new anthropological books reassessing human development from physical, historical, and genetic perspectives. Taoism is in there, too.

The Rockies and the complicated textbook about life and change that they are teach me everyday. Pursuing these investigations because they interest me. I may have a book in there, some way of showing others how the natural world can teach us what we need to know about life, and now perhaps, death.

Gotta do something with this extra time the oncologists have given me. May as well be of some use.

And, happy birthday to me!

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mountains, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

This Will Pass

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Saturday gratefuls: That Urbandale rocker. The new coffee table. The new lamp. Here at the Hermitage. Many items put in cabinets, fussing will be required. A plan slowly coming together. Feels wonderful. Rigel did not eat today. Her footpads. The two delivery guys from Modern Bungalow. “Do you have wildlife up here?” Looking at 4 Mule Deer in the front. Kids. Ruth’s first day back after the hospital. Snow coming down gently. Night fell.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Salmon a la Ode

 

Tired of feeling tired. I get only a few things done. Sit down. Nap. A few more. Not enough. I imagine it’s either the Erleada or the Erleada/Orgovyx combo. So hard to suss out though. Sarcopenia from not working out. Other meds. Getting good sleep so that’s not it.

Next week, two days after my 75th, David Sanders and the question, what’s this guy gonna do with the rest of his life? 11 am. At 1 pm I have my annual physical with Cynthia Gonzalez. First time I will have met her. Fatigue high on the list. At 3 pm Deb Brown at on the move fitness. Need to get moving, doing resistance work. Balance. Flexibility. I’ve never felt the need more.

This 74th year, February 14 2021 to February 14 2022, on the planet has had more than its share of challenges. For all of us. Some have added a few more. Like me. Widower. Single guy living alone. Remodeling, refurnishing. Rigel’s health. Jon’s. Ruth’s. Life. As it flows on in endless song.

Feeling it all today. Ruth’s struggles. Jon’s. Rigel’s. They could add to the fatigue, too, of course. My response to them, that is.

The two young guys who delivered the Modern Bungalow order. A handsome 20 something Black man and a handsome 20 something Latino. Felt like they’d been cast in a movie, the new diversity sensitive films. Just guys. Friendly and helpful. Awed, as we all are, by wild Life. This delivery will remain in their minds, perhaps later draw them to the mountains.

With weariness comes a touch of melancholy. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t erase.

Snow means low Fire danger. Yeah. Also, beauty. 6-9 inches. Means Vince will be here. He might try the Snow raking.

Lots of moving parts in caring for a house, dogs, a life. Called the home call vets. Will get word tomorrow am about a visit. Rigel’s lethargic. I bought stick on pads for her paws which should help improve her mobility, but she’s hardly moved since I put them on. I got XL, but they’re not big enough. If they seem to help, I’ll go XXL.

At this moment life feels a little hard, a little too much. Ruth. Jon. Rigel. The fatigue, the lack of stamina. This will pass.

Cooking, Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Shadow Mountain

Clash

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rigel the wonder dog. Up and out today. Go figure. Kep. Half the night with Rigel upstairs, half with me downstairs. First round of cabinet stuffing complete. Safeway pickup. David Sanders. Sleep. Marina Harris. Container Store. Enlightenment. Sunny Sky. Warm Day. Colorado weird.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rigel alert and happy to see me this morning. When I thought she might have died overnight.

 

Rigel and a bull Elk in our back a day before my first radiation treatment.

Clashing movements in my life. Rigel yesterday. Enfeebled. Back legs splaying out. Coughing. Not eating. Looking miserable. Today. Happy to see me. Up on her own. Outside. Ate a piece of hotdog with her meds in it. Did not eat her breakfast so it’s not all good, but from Monday? Wow.

Wonder dog.

That silverware goes in the top left drawer. The wooden spoons, spatulas, tongs, whisks below them. The potato masher, basting brush, wooden pot scraper below them. The Portmerion punch bowl over the microwave along with the Portmerion soup tureen. Mixing bowls and measuring cups and measuring spoons in the triangular cupbard, bottom. Thermometers and scale and knife sharpeners. Can opener and immersion blender. To the right of the stove.

Roasting and baking pans, wire racks for them below the oven. Plates large and small over the dishwasher. Bowls above them. Serving dishes flat above them. Serving bowls above them. In the cabinet next to the refrigerator, bread box. Above it. Metal baskets for potatoes and onions. Above them Corning Ware.

The new furniture coming Friday, displaced from Thursday by a therapy session with David Sanders. Tom’s wonderful offer to be here if Rigel worsens to a terminal situation.

Classes this morning. So. Much. Going. On.

Jodi can’t work this week because her father in Iowa City has lung cancer and took a turn for the worse. She’s going home.

And so on. Whew.

Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Mountains, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Award Winning Pet Grooming. Happy Camper. Shaggy Sheep.

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Friday gratefuls: Racism. Anti-Semitism. Sexism. Caste consciousness. Hate. Love. Justice. Resistance. Struggle. Le lucha. The long dureé. Vince. Snow. Ruth and her commitment to herself. Jon and his love for her. Betty Whiteout and Ctr Salt Delete, names for Minnesota Snowplows.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Container Store (for my new kitchen organizing)

Tarot: Nine of Bows, Respect.

 

Started putting things in cabinets and drawers. Gonna have to get creative since I lost two drawers in the remodel. Going to the container store tomorrow. Pots, pans, dishes, bowls, cups, infrequently used items like soup tureen, large serving dishes, punch bowl, even appliances will have plenty of room. Towels and dishrags, too. Often used items like forks and spoons and steak knives, spatulas, tongs, wooden spoons, as well. But the not so often used things like thermometers, Kate’s extensive collection of single use kitchen devices, e.g. cherrypitter, pomegranate deseeder, not so much. I look forward to solving this problem. Seriously.

Rescheduled my appointment with Deb Brown for Zoom.

Talked to Ruth again yesterday. She’s pleased with her care at Denver Springs. Music therapy, group therapy, regular individual therapy sessions. It makes me happy that she wants to call me to talk. Sad that she calls me from a psych unit.

That’s the roof with the solar panels. See the problem?

Sent Vince, new snowplow guy a note. Would he be willing to rake off the bottom foot or so of my solar panels when he plows? This would pay for itself if he’s willing. Then, the snow slips off as the sun comes out and I get back to electricity generation. Especially important since the mini-splits are electric.

I did turn the hot water heat on in Kate’s sewing room because I’m going to be rearranging the pantry and bringing things back into the kitchen from there. It’s still a point of chaos in some areas, too. Not gonna deal with that until it’s warmer, too expensive to heat all year round.

Becky Chamber’s, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, is an interesting read. Her characters and world-building are very strong. The plot maybe not quite as important. Recommended. Like being back in the reading groove.

Lots of positives right now. May they continue.

Abraham Lincoln died. Rich made a digital picture file.

Got to take Rigel to Bailey today for Award Winning Pet Grooming. Gonna go first to Happy Camper for Cheeba Chews, then on into Bailey to the groomers and on past them to the Shaggy Sheep, near Grant, for lunch and to wait on Rigel. Shaggy Sheep is fun. A New York City chef wanted the quiet life so he moved to Colorado and put a restaurant together on Hwy. 285 between Bailey and the Kenosha Pass.

 

 

 

Astrology, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

Imbolc

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon (that’s 3/4 of a century for me on February 14)

Tuesday gratefuls: Winds. Swaying Lodgepoles. Cold and Snow coming. Polar Vortex slumping all the way down to Shadow Mountain. Bowe and his work today. Fatigue. Erleada. Mighty chemicals fighting prostate cancer on my behalf. The Assistance Fund. Cheese curds from Wisconsin Cheese Brothers. Night. Sleep. Electric blanket. Pillow. Kep and Rigel with me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Kitchen. Almost remodeled.

Tarot: Nine of Bows, Respect

 

Bowe installed all of the hardware, my magnetic knife holder, a light can in place of a fan, and noted the still unfinished parts of Brian’s work. There are a couple of glitches, but I think they’re minor. Will be fixed. I love it. The hardware makes the whole. If I’m honest, what I love best are the under cabinet lights. I can see!

The kitchen invites me in. Says, work here. It’s your space. I’m proud of the design and the work to realize it. I plan to start loading the cabinets tomorrow. Too tired tonight. Even modest labor like putting things in cabinets does wear me out right now. I go slow.

This is so exciting to me. A part of the new life comes into reality. Chef mois. A lot of self-education over the next few months.

 

Time learning more about South Nodes and North Nodes. South Nodes present our “karmic” past. Things unfinished, things done wrong, things involved in tragedy or heartache, things that tip over into this life. Unfruitful reactions to circumstances. Spots of difficulty in career or marriage or self-awareness. This hinges on your ability to believe in past lives, of course. Tough for me. But, I’m learning it anyhow.

The North Node is the “cure” to the troubles of the South Node. If, like me, you have a South Node in Sagittarius, the North Node, directly across the face of the natal chart clock, is in Gemini. If I came into this life trailing wispy baggage of dogmatism, dark magic, rigid certainty, (all likely as dark sides of Sagittarius) then, the Gemini positives of listening and learning from others will help free me from that baggage. I’ll become a more well-rounded, healthy person.

Still unsure about all this, but over the last couple of weeks the houses, the planets, and the Nodes have become clearer to me. It’s a complex, maybe overly complex, art form, astrology. It does help me to remember that astrology and astronomy were one pursuit in ancient times.

And, too, learning something has its own value. The kabbalistic frame for astrology remains elusive for me. I’ll get there with it.

 

Ruth

Ruth remains under Children’s Hospital’s psychiatric care. She’s been there since dinner Saturday night up here. I’m not sure the exact nature of her crisis, but her being there still underscores its seriousness.  I can’t visit. I’m not on her list. I’ve got a call in, but the psych folks have not called me back.

No idea when, or even if, this will resolve. Having a grandchild, Ruth especially, with severe mental health problems. Sad. Hopeful. Puzzled. Loving. How can we help her right the ship? I don’t know.

 

Rigel, being beautiful, July, 2018

Rigel’s getting new drugs, or rather, more of the recently prescribed drugs: oxycodone and a muscle relaxant. They help some. As Dr. Palmini said, “We’re not trying to get her into Division I athletics.”

Final note: These Winds have blown all the time I’ve been writing. I saw 35 mph on my anemometer. Some gusts higher than that, I’m sure. The Winds of change. A cold weather system is on the way and these Winds are its harbinger.

 

Anoka County, Beyond the Boundaries, Cooking, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, General, Health, Jefferson County, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, The Move, The West, Weather +Climate

The Consolation of the Natural World

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Yule and the Moon of the New Year, at 4% Crescent

The Webb in its L2 orbit:

“Telescope deployment is complete. Webb is now orbiting L2. Ongoing cooldown and eventual instrument turn-on, testing and calibration occur. Telescope mirror alignment and calibration also begin as temperatures fall within range and instruments are enabled.

The telescope and scientific instruments started to cool rapidly in the shade of the sunshield once it was deployed, but it will take several weeks for them to cool all the way down to stable operational temperatures. This cooldown will be carefully controlled with strategically-placed electric heater strips. The remaining five months of commissioning will be all about aligning the optics and calibrating the scientific instruments.” NASA

Monday gratefuls: Mental health care for teens. Jon’s care for Ruth yesterday. The tenderloin roast. Yumm. The blizzard in Maine. The cold in Minnesota. The mind numbing 45 degrees we had here today. Ode in Mexico. Peak TV. All the wonderful series on now. Righteous Gemstones. Pennyworth. Bulgasal. Hotel del Luna. Qin Empire. New Book-Becky Chamber’s, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life

Tarot:

 

Tom asked me this morning how I got along so well with prostate cancer. With grief. With living alone. OK, he didn’t ask those last two, but I figure he implied them.

When first diagnosed in May of 2015, six months after we moved to Colorado, cancer hit me hard. I sat there in Eigner’s office listening. Who me?

When I got in the car to drive back home, the first thought was: Don’t drive when in the grip of strong emotions. Oh. Yeah. Sat there for a minute wondering if it was a good idea to pull out of the parking lot. But. How am I gonna get home?

The mountains were still new to me then. Amazing me each time I went somewhere. Still true, yes, but then my amazement was new, too. I chose to drive back Deer Creek Canyon Road, a sort of back way from Littleton to Conifer.

Turning left about three miles north of the Denver Botanical Gardens, I began the trek up the site, millions of years ago, of the Rocky Mountain Orogeny.  Rocky Cliffs rose from the Earth and the road began to climb as Cliffs and Streams and Boulders began to dominate. Colorado Blue Spruce, Ponderosa Pine, Lodgepole Pine. Aspen. A few Willows and Dogwoods along Deer Creek

Numb. Yes, numb. But then. These Mountains. The layer cake of their formations. One strata on top of another pushed up, up, up out of the Bedrock during the Laramid Orogeny, 80 to 55 million years ago. This Rock was ancient then, resting in place, awaiting the slow changes that come even to the seemingly obdurate.

These facts were fresh with me because, as is my way, I’d been reading a lot about the Rockies before and after our move. I like to know where I am. And how it got to be there.

Huh. It hit me. I’m such a Mayfly. Even my cancer is such a small thing. Big to my life, sure, but in the scope and sweep of these Mountains, Granite and Gneiss and Marble and Shale exposed after a long, long sleep. A sweep of the second hand.

As is also my way my Body went out to the Mountains, following them as I drove. Embracing them as teachers, as guides on this Planet we share. I gradually became calm, understanding that my life and the life of the Mountains are not separate, but joined. Now and forever.

There is a Great Wheel not wedded to the Seasons of temperate latitudes, but one wedded to the creation, life, and inevitable doom of this Rocky, Watery place we call home. I am part of that Great Wheel’s turning. As are each of you who read this.

Before what I have long called the Consolation of Deer Creek Canyon, I experienced the Consolation of the Great Anoka Sand Plain, the shore of the Glacial River Warren. There in Andover I planted, Kate weeded. Flowers and vegetables grew. Dogs ran here and there in the Woods. Bees flew in and out of the Gardens, the Orchard.

Each fall I would find Folk Alley radio on the internet, turn it up so I could hear on our small brick patio outside the lower level. There I would replenish the soil with compost and other nutrients. Digging out onto a tarp, then shoveling it back in. When that was finished I would open the boxes of Bulbs, Corms, and Tubers and Rhizomes. They would go in the Soil, with a bit of fertilizer, at the right depth, then get tucked in with a hard pat. Next Spring there would be Lilies, Tulips, Iris brightly signaling a new growing season.

I loved that work on those fall afternoons. I’d often hear the Andover Marching Band practicing. The Garden of course had its rhythms. It was finishing as I planted the perennial Flowers.

The Garden fed us all year. Fresh veggies, canned veggies. Fruits, too. Raspberries, Honey Crisp Apples. Plums. Cherries. The Bees gave us Honey.

The Garden was part of me and I, after the eating the produce and the Honey, was part of it. I call this the true transubstantiation.

In all Seasons I would hike to my Tree in the Boot Lake Scientific and Natural Area. I would sit with my back against it, looking at all of its Children who grew in an irregular circle around it. I sprinkled Tully’s ashes there. She was a sweetheart and I wanted to honor her.

I’ve gone on too long. The point is, I long ago found my place in the Natural World, its bounty, its death, its ongoingness. And as the Mountains along Deer Creek Canyon reminded me, that was and is enough.