Category Archives: Shadow Mountain

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Waiting To Cross

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Imbolc and the Waiting to Cross Moon

Monday gratefuls: Dr. Eigner. Dr. Simpson. Kep, the early. Snow. More Snow. Mild temperatures. The Ukraine. Biden. The James Webb. Tom and Bill, the science bros. Max, getting older. Ode, the well-rooted wanderer. Paul, the steadfast. Alan, the cheerful. The Ancient Brothers, a true Sangha. Zoom. Korean fried chicken. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Ivory. Ruby. Oncology.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Ancient Brothers

 

So I said it out loud. My reaction to mom’s death turned me from a confident, ready to take on the world teenager to a frightened, hesitant young adult. One who dropped German because he was failing it. Shame. One who convinced himself there was not enough money for Wabash because he was afraid to go back. Shame. One who entered then a great teacher’s college, but a mediocre university. Ball State University. Shame.

Not a lot of shame in my life. Very little. That’s where it lies. Perhaps now having put it out there. So late. 76. It will fall away. It took me years, nearly three decades, to put the pain of her death in perspective. Treatment for alcoholism. Quitting smoking. Quitting the ministry. Years of Jungian analysis. Finally. Meeting Kate. 26 years later. I finally passed the threshold of grieving mom’s death.

And started living my life. As a writer. A gardener. A dog lover. A beekeeper. An anachronistic blogger. With a woman who loved me as I was and one whom I loved as she was. A love where we wanted and supported the best life for each other. We traveled. A lot. We stood with both sons fully.

Abundance. Yes. Ode’s word for our Andover home. Yes. Flowers. Meadow. Fruits. Nuts. Berries. Grapes. Honey. Plums. Pears. Apples. Cherries. Iris. Tulips. Spring ephemerals. Roses. Hosta. Gooseberries. Beans. Heirloom tomatoes. Leeks. Garlic. Onions. Kale. Collard Greens. Lettuce. Carrots. Ground Cherry. Raspberries.

The fire pit. The woods.

The dogs. So many dogs. Celt. Sorsha. Morgana. Scot. Tira. Tully. Orion. Tor. The Wolfhounds. Iris. Buck. Hilo. Emma. Kona. Bridget. The Whippets. Vega and Rigel. The IW/Coyote Hound sisters. Gertie, the German Short Hair. And Kep, the Akita.

It was so good. Until the work became burdensome. Until I visited Colorado one year and Ruth ran away from the door because she didn’t expect me. A surprise visit. Then we had to come. The two. A push. The work of Seven Oaks had become too much. A pull. We wanted, needed to be there for Ruth and Gabe.

So we packed everything up. And on the Winter Solstice of 2014 moved here, to the top of Shadow Mountain. 8,800 feet above sea level. Into the Wildland/Urban Interface, the WUI. With four dogs: Kep, Gertie, Rigel, and Vega. Again, thanks to Tom for helping with the dog move.

When the time came, we put away Andover and envisioned a life together in the Rocky Mountains. Kate felt like she was on vacation every day until she died. Where she found the Jewish life she had always wanted. Where we both found ourselves immersed in the lives of our grandchildren, of their parents.

Now Kate is dead. Vega is dead. Gertie is dead. Rigel is dead. Only Kep and I remain alive. I’m at another threshold, waiting to cross.

Denver, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Hermitage, Shadow Mountain

Four More Years!

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Kep, the early. Jon, a memory. Alan and Cheri. Their move. Next Thursday. Down the hill. Marilyn and Irv watching the John Cleese life after death video. Alan offering to chauffeur me for my colonoscopy. Selling myself short on physical activity. Animas chocolates from Mary. That Korean chicken place. The dumpster in front of the Rav4. Jon’s house about to get cleaned. A buoyed up feeling as I drove. Waiting to cross. Liminal spaces.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: A delightful Saturday

 

Over to Cheri and Alan’s Saturday morning to help with packing. Packing is better with friends. I picked up a Bread Lounge order for Alan on the way. Multi-grain sourdough and fancy pastries. A tort and two cinnamon rolls. When I arrived, Alan made espresso. Cheri had me sit in the seat with a view. Their million dollar vista of the Continental Divide. Sold. Only theirs for a few more days.

On Thursday they move from Genesee, right next to Evergreen, to downtown Denver. Right across from the Denver Center for the Performing Arts. After 27 years. Cheri believes a crisis is coming for home insurance in the Colorado WUI. As a former owner/creator of a reinsurance company, she’s not to be ignored. Hope it gives me four years.

As I moved boxes, helped Alan move bookcases, I realized I’ve still got enough energy to handle three hours of moderately heavy work. At least at their altitude. Which is 1300 feet below mine. Been minimizing my stamina. Want to stop doing that.

I’ve allowed myself to sink into a diminished view of my body’s capacity. What I can do physically. Telling myself a story of low testosterone, altitude, and a paralyzed diaphragm. All true, yet not as significant as I imagine. Use it or lose it. Want to keep my body as strong and able as possible for as long as possible.

Not sure how to challenge this view, but I suspect getting back to resistance work will help. My new tablet. Bought so I can watch workout videos downstairs. Body weight. Getting it setup. Bought an inch thick mat for the workouts. May bring some light weights down from the loft.

 

See Eigner tomorrow. Oncologist. What’s my prognosis? With the mets on my spine. Should I do radiation? Is my sadness a typical feeling for this part of the journey? As I wrote yesterday, I’m at a threshold. These are the questions, hard ones. At least the ones about cancer. Wanting to face front, be as knowledgeable as I can. Not to scare myself, but to do what I can in the moment.

 

Robin comes on Tuesday. I’ve gotten more work done since she and Michele were here last. Cleared out the home office, though it’s not finished for use yet. Got substantial work done on the guest room walk-in closet. Many shirts, sport coats, a suit, ties, coats ready to go elsewhere. Will do some work in there today. While eating the wonderful Animas chocolate Mary sent me for my birthday.

They will work on removing what I’ve chosen to give away and getting all my art off the walls upstairs, off the mantle. Taking down all the art in Kate’s former sewing room. I’ll be ready then for Doug, the painter who will paint the upstairs and downstairs starting March 1st. When he’s done, I’ll have Vince over to get the art hung.

Four more years!

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain

I Will Wait

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Alan. Marilyn and Irv. CBE. Kate, always, Kate. Rebecca. Tara. Kep, the wonderful. The singularity. Sydney. Chatbots. Facebook for old friends far away. Jamie. Luke. Tal. Diane and Tom. The Ancient Brothers. My son and his wife. Grief. Prostate cancer. Mom. Mary and Animas Chocolates from Durango. Mark and his new job(s)? Vince and Robin and Michele. Ken. Snowplowers. Mark, my mailman. UPS and Fedex. Chewy. Amazon.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My beloved son

 

Going over to Alan’s today to help him pack. Well, more like talk to him while he packs. Maybe breakfast later. Sad to see him go down the hill. He says we’ll keep it up, but a new life for him will emerge and it will be harder. Maybe a couple of times a month instead of weekly. A good friend. At Kate’s shiva Alan told me it would be his job to get me out of the house. He’s been faithful to that promise and I so appreciate it.

When we finish. Down to Jon’s house to leave a Rav4 key. The cleaners start on Monday and they need the driveway for a dumpster. Five and a half months after Jon’s death. Better than never. Have I mentioned here get a will? I mean, right now. Probate is a bastard. When it goes well. And this did not go well.

Does give me a chance to get some of that good Korean fried chicken.

 

Liminal spaces. Doorways. Windows. Dawn. Dusk. Beaches. Forest edges. Mountain tops. Death beds. Stratosphere. Troposphere. The Earth’s crust. Active Volcanoes. Computer screens for zoom. River shores. Deltas. Samain. The Winter Solstice. To the Celts and many other older cultures Dawn and Dusk were not only magical times, but times for magic.

In a Facebook post I found this excerpt* from John O’Donohue’s book, Blessing the Space Between Us. Realized my awareness of deep sadness over the last week or so was a clue. A sign that I had approached a threshold. I love his advice: “It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds: to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross.”

He reminds me not to move too quickly. To experience the sadness in its fullness. To find the joy standing next to it. Taste the confusion of letting my own needs surface. Grief, Jon observed after Kate’s death, is like the gradual rebound of the North American Continent after the retreat of its Continental Glaciers. Jon was a bright and sensitive observer of life. This threshold lies at the boundary between my grief for others and my grief for myself, long repressed by the heavy, glacial weight of illnesses and psychic pain in my life.

As the grief for others recedes, never to be gone of course, so rises my own awareness. Of cancer. Of Kate’s death. Of Jon’s. Of the whole disruption of the divorce and Ruth’s inner struggles. Of feelings other than grief. Relief. Jon is one for whom I hope rest in peace applies. A tortured life. An ugly death. Glad Kate’s many illnesses no longer matter for her. Confusion. Where does that leave me? In Hawai’i? In Minnesota? In Golden? On Shadow Mountain. Who am I now without Kate. Without Jon’s often difficult, but also often wondrous presence? Without Rigel. With only one Dog for the first time in 30+ years.

This is the threshold, I know. Who am I now? What am I now?

What do I fear in these questions? That the old me bound up in being needed and in empathy for the suffering of others: Kate, Jon, Ruth will disappear. Poof. A strand of smoke. And, as in Beowulf, heaven will swallow the smoke. Who stands behind the altar on which that old life goes up in flames? What is he like? What is he for? How long will he live?

Thanks to O’Donohue I will wait. Not jump across this threshold. Rather I will listen for my inner voice to whisper, It is time to cross.

 

*”At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing? At this time in my life, what am I leaving? Where am I about to enter? What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold? What gift would enable me to do it? A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms, and atmospheres. Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up. At this threshold a great complexity of emotion comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossings were always clothed in ritual. It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds: to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there; to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward. The time has come to cross.” John O’Donohue in his book, To Bless the Space Between Us.

Colorado, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Hawai'i, Health, Judaism, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate, Writing

A great birthday present

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Kep, the calm. Pulmonary function test. That nurse. Driving down the hill. Beau Jo’s. Pizza and cherry cobbler. Snow. Still coming. Into the Snowy months. Rocky Mountain Pulmonary. Wheat Ridge. A 1960’s ‘burb. CJ Box. Tal. Philpott. The Good Life. Vince. Who will plow my driveway. A good birthday. Ruby and her peculiarities. Gift certificate to Pappadeux’s. Animas Chocolates.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends and Family

 

My peripheral arteries and veins are fine. Rocky Mountain Vascular Institute. My lungs, too, are fine. Rocky Mountain Pulmonary. A good birthday present.

Drove down the hill to the quaintish suburb of Wheat Ridge. Had a chest x-ray. Always fun. Then to the campus of Lutheran Hospital where a very enthusiastic nurse administered a full pulmonary function test. This involves taking a deep breath. Well. Several. Then blowing out hard. Panting, very softly. Repeat 3 x. Into a plastic tube. Albuterol inhaler. 4 x. More inhaling and blowing.

Hardest part for me. She enclosed me in a clear plastic cylinder that looked like a small dunk tank. Seated. We got 2 out of 3 repeats done before I tapped out. Claustrophobia got me. She kept saying I did very well. And, apparently I did.

The pulmonologist, whom I wish Kate could have seen, was a young guy. Got his M.D. from U. of Minnesota like her. What are we seeing you for today? I want to know if there’s any pulmonological reason I’ll need to move to a lower elevation? Within four years.

He leafed through my results. Your chest x-ray looks fine. An elevated left diaphragm. Polio? Yes. Some of your breathing tests are actually better than normal. Oh? Yes. Your lungs are very efficient at diffusing carbon dioxide out and oxygen into your blood stream.

So when I get shortness of breath, my paralyzed left diaphragm plus my extremely low testosterone level and altitude explains it? Yes. And it won’t get worse. No. In fact you could probably go up another two thousand, three thousand feet.

What a great 76th birthday present! Glad I scheduled it for yesterday.

On Monday I see Dr. Eigner. My oncologist. He sees me once a year, the rest of the time I see Kristie, his p.a. We’ll make a final decision on the radiation though as I’ve said I’m inclined to do it. I’m also going to ask him straight up what the odds are for me since I have metastases that have gone to the bone. How much time have I got? No certainties. I know that. But he knows me, my medical history. More important though how long will my healthspan remain solid as it is now?

Not sure what pushed me down so far last week, but I’ve turned the corner on it. Back to doing what I can, then living my best life.

 

Wondering about writing. Do I even want to do it? Yes, Ancientrails. That’s a well established habit. Now in its 18th year. But the other writing. Fiction. Non-fiction. Do I need to do it to feel good about myself? Not sure anymore.

Maybe I’m at a point where leaning into the life I have is enough. Friends. Family. The Mountains. Hawai’i in four years. Learning Korean. Reading. Art. Movies. Hiking. Travel. Taking care of the Kep.

A longer conversation.

 

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Holidays, Shadow Mountain

76 Earphones

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Imbolc and the Valentine (Day) Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: 76 Valentine’s days. And counting. E-cards and e-mails. A day of celebration and pulmonology. Gettin’ old. For the most part. Ruby. Running. Kep, the unseeing. Marina Harris. Furball Cleaning. Ana and friend. Luke. Snow on its way. Winter Storm Warning. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. That Aspen out my window. The Lodgepoles waiting for the Snow. Down the hill and up again before it comes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: 76 birthdays

 

As our earthly Chariot speeds past the February 14th spot in the sky, the clicker strikes up another year for me and all of us with Valentine Day birthdays. And the Solar System rushes outward, away from the great Black Hole at the center of the Milky Way. While the Milky Way itself speeds on its way as well. So much high speed motion literally all around us and we feel nothing. Strange.

Yesterday was another 90 minute workout. Doing what I can to ride this bad boy as long as possible. Ate the Shrimp and Grits from Pappadeux’s for lunch. Better. Still far away from the Savannah restaurant where it was so good I went back twice on the same trip.

Got a gift card from the Johnson sisters. To Pappadaeux’s. Gonna order off the Cajun menu the next time. Lean into their strength. Besides Sarah, who lives in North Carolina, says she never orders Shrimp and Grits outside of the Carolina’s or the coast of Georgia. I get it.

Several sweet Jacquie Lawson cards. I like to send them and receive them. Sister Mary introduced me to her long ago. It’s fun to be recognized on my birthday. Especially at 76. Although there’s something to be said for the thoroughbred and Korean way, too. January 1st for the horses of the Northern Hemisphere, August 1st for the Southern. During the spring festival all Koreans turn over a year after eating a special soup. Everybody can celebrate together. It’s a big family holiday as you might imagine.

All of my septuagenarian days. A Coloradan and a Westerner. My Mountain decade. A great place to get old. er.

Celebrating this morning with a trip to Rocky Mountain Pulmonologists. Gonna check out my fitness for a few more years at 8,800 feet. I need four. Time to go. Short one for now.

Cooking, Denver, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, Sport, US History

A 76’er

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Monday gratefuls: Birthday dinner with Ruth and Gabe. Pappadeauxs. Chiefs win. Kep’s new gettin’ up time. His sweetness. Ruth, newly black hair and pink glasses with crystals. Gabe in his fancy shirt with no pocket. The old man eating alone. An American revolutionary birthday tomorrow. Pulmonologist. The Ancient Brothers on their favorite things. Dogs. Hawai’i. Sushi. Dr. Zhivago. Little kids. The Chiefs. Mendocino. Delmar, California. Shanghai. Wombats.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dining with Gabe and Ruth

 

Realized yesterday that this is my American revolution birthday: 76. A revolutionary celebration. I like it. All you 76’ers out there. We’re not done yet. May not be nearer to God, but I am nearer to 80.

As you can tell, my mood has lifted. Thanks to those of you who expressed concern. Sadness stands next to joy. Both are important.

Pappadeauxs. Disappointing. Could have ordered off the Cajun menu: gumbo, crawfish etouffé, jambalaya, but I chose a dish I first had in Savannah, shrimp and grits. Loved it there. The Pappadeux version was over spiced and not very good. Though. Gabe loved the Red Snapper. Delicious, he said. Ruth had a dish with blackened catfish, cooked oysters, shrimp, and dirty rice. She loved it though, I’m trying to get off sea food. Wants to go to Watercourse, a full vegan restaurant for her birthday. 17. A teen queen.

Ruth says she’s reintegrating at Northfield H.S. She sounds and looks good. Earlier drug related jitters calming down. We talked about food, being a teen, cancer, laughed a lot. Took one silly picture. Gabe tried with some visible discomfort to dine with aplumb. Those bread crumbs spread around his plate told the tale.

Glad they were able to join me. They were both eager Eagle’s fans. I told them I wanted the Chiefs to win. Nah, Nah, Ne Nah, Nah. Hey, Hey.

At the table next to ours an older man than me dined alone. He had on a red and black plaid shirt and ate his catfish carefully. His hair was white, his skin the papery texture I associate with a person in their 90s. Wondered if his wife had died, or if he had been alone a long time.

Got home about 7:30 pm. I did notice that my jaw clinched on my way home, but it lifted as soon as I got back into the Mountains. This is home and my body knows it.

 

76. Eh. After three score and ten, we’re all in bonus time. My friends are older now, too. Though I have Luke, 28, and Mike and Kate. Ruth and Gabe. They keep me connected to earlier days of the journey. Glad I’m no longer scanning the horizon for what I want to do.

 

How bout those Chiefs. Stand up of that Eagle’s player to admit he did grab the jersey of the Chief’s receiver. Resulted in a penalty that gave the Chiefs a chance to run out the clock and kick a winning field goal. Wish I had had the opportunity to watch this one. A true championship game.

 

Mountains, Science, Shadow Mountain, The West

Colorado Plateau. Rotates!

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Imbolc and the Valentine Moon

Friday gratefuls: Kristie. Kep. Sunseen. On the Lodgepoles. Through the Lodgepoles. Fresh Snow. Cold temps. A search for emet. Cancer. Diane. Her political astuteness. Our long connection. Family. Biden. Ukraine. The Democratic compromise. State of the Union, steadier. Luke. Rabbi Jamie. Tara. Our Land, this Land. The Rockies. Mind blown. The Deep. Love everlasting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Science

 

The Laramide orogeny. Mountain building seventy-five million years ago. A tectonic plate crashing into another right at a line followed by Hwy. 470 here in the Denver metro. The Plains crunched up at the Front Range. What I’ve read and believed since moving to Colorado. Those Hogbacks the remains of an ancient Mountain Range, the Laramides.

Turns out. No. Not the case. The Colorado Rockies are around ten million years old! Wait. There’s more! The whole Colorado Plateau rotates clockwise! The Colorado Rockies still being pushed up higher! That’s right. The Rockies are a young Mountain Range created by a dynamic I’ve not fully grasped.

I understand this much. The orogeny (Mountain building) pressure comes not from the east as in the old Laramide theory, but from the west. And that pressure, exerted by the same Faults that create Earthquakes in California, are dynamic, still at work. There may be some Vulcanology implicated too.

As you can tell by the exclamation marks, I’m excited about this! Taking a new class on Colorado Glaciations. Glaciation is why the Rockies look so rugged. Also, according to Vince Matthews, another former director of the Colorado Geological Survey who’s teaching this course, none of the current Glaciers in Colorado are over 400 years old. Stopping with the exclamation marks. That’ed get silly.

Not sure how to reconcile Vince Matthew’s comments about the Rockies being ten million years old and what you’ll see below, but it’s evident that this is work no one understands very well. Even geologists.

Supposed to get a link to a video that shows how this works. I’ll post it when it arrives. The whole Colorado Plateau. Rotating. Wow. Here’s a bullet point list about what one author believes:

▪ The Colorado Plateau’s iconic landscapes were shaped during its 70-million-year, still-enigmatic, tectonic evolution characterized by uplift and erosion.
▪ Uplift of the Colorado Plateau from sea level took place in three episodes, the youngest of which has been ongoing for the past 20 million years.
▪ Tectonism across the Colorado Plateau’s nearest plate margin (the base of the plate!) is driving uplift and volcanism and enhancing its rugged landscapes.
▪ The bowl-shaped Colorado Plateau province is defined by ongoing uplift and an inboard sweep of magmatism around its margins.
▪ The keel of the Colorado Plateau is being thinned as the North American plate moves southwest through the underlying asthenosphere.
Aging, Commentary on the news, Cooking, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Work, Jefferson County, Judaism, Mountains, Plants, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

It was a lynching

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Hot Water. My shower. Marilyn and Irv. Ageism. Aspen Perk. Aspen Park Dental. Darlene, the hygienist. Seeing the Magpies against the Snow as I sat in the dental chair. Clean teeth. Good gum health. No work needed. Yes. Grocery pickup. Home. Brined center cut porkchops. Cooked in the Air fryer. Mixed vegetables. Tangerine. Mary’s photos of her last days in Kobe. Eau Claire. Air travel. Sarah and Annie. The Jeep.

Sparks of joy and awe: Friends and family

 

A note I sent to my county commissioner, Lesley Dahlkemper, about a proposed Mountain bike park on Shadow Mountain Drive:

Hi, Lesley!

Met you at Marilyn Saltzman’s 70th birthday party. Before you became a commissioner. Congratulations!

I live on Black Mtn Drive. Up the hill about 2 miles from the proposed mtn bike park. Aside from the obvious degradation of a mountain side and a beautiful, clear running stream and aside from the obvious traffic nightmare on already difficult to navigate blind curves and narrow no shoulders Shadow Mountain Drive, I’d like to tell you about a 7 AM drive I took that passed by the bike park area.

There in that meadow were thirty cow Elks and one magnificent bull, a fourteen pointer. A mist was rising from Shadow Brook. Now that may not be a logical argument against the bike park, but it’s damn sure a good one to me.

 

Tyre Nichols. Still think the role of police in our culture doesn’t need drastic and dramatic change? Tainted by the power given to them by a frightened white majority the police live out the violent fantasies of those at home watching TV. Their color does not matter. What matters is their intent, their willingness to step well beyond the bounds of decency. Remember Derek Chauvin’s knee? One of the officers who stood by was Hmong. The others who stood and watched? Rodney King?

Tom Crane found an interesting interview with Rev. Dante Stewart. His words on lynching are worth sharing:

“That was more than police brutality. That was a lynching. They wanted to kill him because, in some sense, lynching is about the spectacle. It’s about what someone with power does to another human being to ride and rid them of every ounce of their dignity and put it in the public to show this is what we think about this person.

“When those in the past put Black people up on noose, it was a message to them: This is our estimation of your life, and much more, this is our hatred of your life. And when Tyre Nichols was beaten and the just immense disregard to him, it showed us in public once again the estimation of Black life, white racism and white supremacy.”  WBUR

This sort of action by the police reimagines the whip of the plantation slave master. Sanctioned violence to keep the enslaved in place. We still fear the emboldened and empowered other. What might they do to us? What to do? Do it to them first.

 

On a better note, also from Tom. On Kernza Grain. “I just came across this perennial grain developed by the Land Institute. I also ordered some from a site which sells it as a cereal much like oatmeal. I’ll let you know how it is.”

The Land Institute is a solution finder. Glad Tom found this product, the first commercial fruits of the Institute’s work. I’ll let you know what he thinks.

Inbox
Cooking, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health, Hermitage, Politics, Shadow Mountain

A bit of an organ recital. Another gun rant.

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Winter and the Valentine Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Robin and Michelle. Space Wranglers. Coming today. Kep, the sleeper. Award Winning Pet Grooming. His next big adventure. Cool temps. 8. The Rockies in Winter. Alan and his moving angst. Computers. Zoom. Smart phones. Cancer meds. Imani Perry. A good nights sleep. Mark. Mary. Diane. Tom. Ancient Brothers. Vince. Furball Housekeeping. Ana.

Sparks of joy and awe: Clean house. Thanks, Ana and friend. Makes my daily life better. This time they loaded the dishwasher and ran it, too. Feels good to have a clean house.

 

While they work, I worked out. Getting in 70 minutes of quality time with my old friend the treadmill. For some reason I’ve been resisting resistance work. (see what I did there?) Know I need it. Or sarcopenia will keep getting worse. Just. Not. Doing. It. Right now.

Might need an Ode solution. Go to some faraway Beach and walk in the Sand and the Sun.

 

Used my air dryer for the first time last night. It cooked my tator tots while I fried my Alaskan Rock Fish on the stove and cooked peas in the microwave. Using all my electrical appliances in a coordinated fashion. A kitchen symphony. Most excellent.

Been doing my own cooking almost exclusively over the last couple of weeks. Liking it. Lost some weight in the process. As my doc thinks is important for me to do. Four, five pounds.

 

On paying for my cancer meds. OMG. So I asked about the billing of my orgovyx at $135 instead of $896. The McKesson finance department in response sent me every bill they’ve ever made with my name on it. Thankfully online. With the last one which reads $135. WTF. And on the Erleada. Would I like to have help with my copay? Sure, but if it’s the manufacturer’s plan I don’t qualify for it. Oh, no. This is a foundation. Not the Assistance Fund? No, something different. Well, hell yeah. We’ll see if I qualify.

But, in the interim. No Erleada. Fortunately I have some free samples and a bit more from my last delivery. Otherwise. This helping would be creating over a two week lag in my meds. Sigh. Still, better to have folks trying. As long I have some meds. I mean, they are for my cancer after all.

Between this and the moving target that is my thyroid stimulating hormone, some changes to my blood pressure meds and statins. Getting complex. Along with upcoming appointments to a vascular surgeon and a new pulmonologist. Dentist. And I feel fine. Except for this damned fatigue. Worst in the afternoons.

Thus endeth the organ recital.

 

7 more in California. Half Moon Bay.

“In the first few weeks of 2023, at least 69 people have been killed in mass shootings across the country, including two shootings within days of each other in California.” ‘Tragedy Upon Tragedy’: January Brings Dozens of Mass Shootings So Far

And the folks who sponsored this epidemic of gun ownership and their violent use on other humans want to take over the government.

My heart does not like this. How much sadness can we stand until we do something effective?

 

 

 

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Korea, Mathematics, Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

The Great Wheel turns for us all

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Winter and my 76th Valentine Moon

Saturday gratefuls: Alan. The Campfire. Snow. Dribs and drabs keeping the Mountains white. Going out today. Adventure! Watching women’s soccer on HBO. Motorsports Magazine. Road and Track. Bomani Jones. Going to Savannah and Charleston with Imani Perry. Doctor Who. New Amsterdam. Collard Greens and Kielbasa. With a tangerine chaser. The nudger. Lao Tze. Chuang-tzu.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

 

Color me confused. Looked at my credit card statement. After all the heavy breathing, my charge from McKesson pharmacy for the orgovyx was $135. Not sure if it’s a mistake or not. They told me $896 on the phone. With Erleada yet to come. This whole damned thing. Who needs this $*!#?

 

I’m feeling proud of myself this morning. I did go through all of the boxes in the Kate dining room. Took out some, left most. When Robin comes on Tuesday, she’ll be able to load those directly into her and Michelle’s vehicles, take them to recycling. Should be time left over for the pruning I’ve done in the new upstairs office. Might even get to that walk-in closet before they come. Yes, sir. Moving things along.

Also my Korean’s improving. At least on Duolingo. When I see Seoah next, that will be a good test. Now I’m saying very, very low level learning. For speaking. Better for reading and understanding. Very low level. But still a long ways from zero. I’m picking up the occasional words on K-dramas now. No sentences yet. Amazing myself. I am working at it daily. I know both math and languages require daily work.

Hangul makes it harder. Obv. I need to go back and refresh the Hangul that came at the start. Though. The repetition has me recognizing more and more. Not sure of the pedagogy. Am I learning the Hangul through repetition? I am, yes, but is that the plan? I don’t know. Verbs? Not so much. A little exposure that I’m not sure I understand.

 

Yes, this new moon will be the 76th to preside over my birthday on Valentine’s Day. Wowzer. Closer to 80 than 70. Odd. As I’m sure everyone who hits this marker feels. Life keeps offering surprises, joys, love. I’m good for another decade anyhow. Psychologically. Physically? We’ll have to see.

It will feel strange to cross the line, if I do, past Kate’s age at her death. 76 years and nine months. October of this year for me. As it felt strange to turn 47, the age my mother was when she died.

Not sure if I mentioned here coming across Kate’s couple of pages description of our dogs. Made me cry a bit. Her handwriting. Her thoughts on the page. Our shared love of the many, many dogs we both knew and cared for. She’s gone, but her memory is for a blessing. As my Jewish friends say. Her second yahrzeit comes this April. Hard. Two years gone.

Still alone but not lonely. Me. Knowing now the Great Wheel does turn even for those we love, and for ourselves. The consolation of Deer Creek Canyon. Yes.