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  • Round Three

    Posted on by Charles 1 Comment

    Spring and the Kepler Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: MVP. Tara. Marilyn. Susan. Jamie. Rich. Ron. Bitachon, trust. Kate’s memory, a blessing in all ways. Cooler today. Snow. Good workout. Furball Cleaning. Ana and friend.  A clean house. The new colors. That threshold. Coming closer. Irv. Adoptable dogs. Radiation #3. Joy. Simcha. Embracing joy. Living joyfully.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Eudaimonia

     

    Hit the treadmill for 65 minutes. 101 total minutes of exercise with the 2 minutes for every intense minute calculation. Felt good. Coffee and albuterol, oatmeal and peanut butter on board before hand.

    While I exercised, Ana and her friend cleaned the house. It needed it. The last of Kep’s hair. The leftover from Doug’s painting. Ruth, Gabe, and Mia’s visit. Plus it had been three and a half weeks since it was last cleaned. Feels so good to have a clean house. A clean house with a fresh look. Mental health. Moving forward, over that threshold.

     

    MVP last night. The topic, the middot, was bitachon, trust. I said that I trust everyone. To be who they are. Realized I need to modify that. I trust everyone to be who I know them to be. I can’t truly know another’s essence. But I can know how I experience them. In the moment and over time.

    This means I have varying levels of trust, many of them. None blind. All based on experience, not hope. If you tend to show up late, I know that. If you do what you say, I know that. If you anger easily, I know that. If you steal things, I hide what’s valuable to me. Either emotions or goods.

    We all agreed we had trouble, for various reasons, keeping our mouths shut about others. Not that we gossip, but that some circumstances arise. Ones where we start sharing things about others that aren’t ours to tell. Not necessarily secrets or negative things. Just things that belong to others. One person gave the example of a neighbor asking about a divorce. She found herself offering more detail than she needed. Wanting to keep the friend. That sort of thing.

    So our mutual practice for this month is. Value the vault. Keep what we know to ourselves. Allow others to tell their own stories. If they want to.

     

    Round three of radiation on my left hip lymph node today. Though the radiation itself is both invisible and non-tactile at my sensory level it’s still powerful. Find myself sleeping longer and harder. Fatigue, not awful, but there. The thing about radiation is that its side effects can show up a year, two years later. And I won’t know for sure whether it killed my two mets until later this year when I have a P.E.T. scan. An odd form of therapy. You can’t feel it and you can’t tell if it worked until sometime after. Glad it’s available though.

    Next week we get started on my T3 thoracic vertebrae. This is the one where the possible side effects become dire. Including, but not limited to, paralysis. After several conversations with docs, I decided the risk made sense. There is a chance, albeit a small chance, that if we kill these two mets I could be cured. Wouldn’t that be something?

    Not counting on that. But I will extend my time off Erleada and Orgovyx when I go on a drug holiday later this year.

    Neil Young for music today.

     


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  • Vive la difference

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Garden Path Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Alan. Bread Lounge. Mussar. Thursday. Kep with pain resolved. Doug. Colorado Cold. 14. Snow showers off and on. Safeway. Grocery pickup. Lab tests. Thyroid. Plus a few. Nichie. Kristie. Dr. Gonzalez. Ruby. Ivory. Ruth. Gabe. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. Ukraine. Russia. China. India. USA. Liberals. Socialists. Communists. Belize. Marilyn.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: A Mountain Dawn

     

    Another good workout yesterday. Hitting 200 + minutes a week this last month. 11 more to go this week. Feels good. No resistance work though. Need to get back to it, but I’ve found a reluctance that I don’t understand.

     

    Doug didn’t show up yesterday. That’s what he had said on Tuesday. That he wouldn’t be working Thursday or Friday. Then he said he would be here. Guess whatever it was came up anyway. Might be Snow. He could be a skier. Folks in the Mountains prioritize matters differently. Dr. Doverspike has changed two appointments with Kep due to sudden outbursts of Powder. Makes sense to me. Even if I can’t do it.

     

    In Mussar yesterday Sally, a Trump supporter who lives this half of the year in Ecuador but comes in through zoom, said she doesn’t understand all the emphasis on differences. We should be emphasizing how we’re alike, she said. She’s been a good friend to Anshel, a trans man at CBE, and to Luke, the gay former ex-executive director of CBE. And they appreciate her for her friendship.

    So the group went off on how everyone has a divine spark (Lurianic kabbalah), is made in the image of God. I agree with the conclusion though the metaphysics for me are different. We’re all children of the stars made of atoms passing through this phase of their existence.

    Sally has a wedge issue here and she’s not wrong. We need to emphasize our commonalities. What’s beneath this though is a right wing attack on identity politics. In order to get justice we have to recognize that though we are all one in the eyes of God or the universe differences do exist and they matter when the favors of our civilization get distributed.

    For example, we also discussed deed covenants in Denver. No Negroes. No Latinos. No Jews. I’ve mentioned before the first house I bought in Minneapolis had similar covenants. These covenants were legal until 1964 when the Civil Rights Act passed. So here’s the problem. Folks with the power to enforce injustice recognize differences. Ask any gay man or woman. Any trans student forced to choose between gendered bathrooms. Ask any Jew. Any Latino working in the fields of California’s Central Valley or on the lawn of homes of any gated community in the U.S.

    That’s not all though. The differences matter in a positive way, too. The richness of a world with Tex-Mex food. With Chinese bronzes from an ancient civilization. With folks among whom you feel comfortable. With hamburgers and pizza. With Italian and Hmong and Tagalog and Arabic and Latin and Korean. With sons from India and daughter-in-laws from Korea. With genders recognized along the continuum that has always existed. With bulgogi and moo goo gai pan. With sushi and a full Scottish breakfast. With tartans and kente cloth. With black skin and white skin and yellow skin and brown skin and red skin. With skiers and snowboarders. With Olympic athletes and amateur golfers.

    We need difference. Vive la différence.

    Yet we also need to recognize our dependence on the Sun and on Mother Earth. We eat. We laugh. We bark. We cry. We wail. We hurt. We experience awe. We roar. We swim in the ocean depths and fly high above the Lodgepole Pines. We are one as travelers through the vastness on this tiny blue marble.

    Are we all one? Oh, yes. Are we all different? Oh, yes. Can we merge these two truths? Oh, yes.

     

     


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  • Chatbot helps me cook

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc the Waiting to Cross Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Tara. Pronounced Terra. Feelings. Sadness. Joy. Confidence. Trust. Vincent coming home. Her invitation to the second night Seder.  Aspen Perks. Poor food but a good place to eat. Quiet. That perky waitress. Kep. An early nudger today. My son. A joy. Becoming Native to This Place. Seeing Like a State. The Reason Liberalism Failed. Christian Nationalism. The changing state of our State.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: A deep friendship

     

    Tara. Whose name I pronounce as I read it. Tar-ah. But who pronounces it as she was given it, Terra. Gotta learn to say this. Hard. I pronounce as I read something. Not always right. Difficult to change.

    We spent an hour plus talking. About her son Vincent who may return from a long stay in New York City next month. About my cancer. About Yamantaka. About matters of the heart. Tara has a profound honesty I appreciate.

    She invited me to her second night seder. Her daughter, Julia, has college friends who want to come. So there will be a crowd. Glad to go. In this case I’m going to suck up my caution about covid. I’m tired of it anyhow. Still, it lingers and the in-person attendance at the Purim spiel on Monday suggests I’m not the only one.

    Friends. Near and far. So happy to have them in my life.

     

    CT scan today. To establish targets for my radiation. Five sessions. Two next week and three the week after. I hope it’s the same crew. I liked them. Kind. Caring. Not exactly looking forward to this, but it’s important. The drive is an hour both ways. That’s a hassle. And, there are non-trivial risks. What I choose to do with this one wild and precious life of mine. Keep it as long as I can.

     

    Still playing around with the Chatbot. I made a potato and kale soup last night with chorizo. It blew up the roof of my mouth with its spiciness. Gonna take it tonight to MVP. What to do?

    That sounds like a delicious soup!😋 According to web sources12345, some ingredients that are commonly used in kale and potato soup with chorizo are:

    • Chicken broth
    • Onion
    • Garlic
    • Smoked paprika
    • Salt and pepper

    You could try adding more of these ingredients to your soup to reduce the spiciness. Alternatively, you could add some sour cream or cheese on top of your soup for a creamy contrast. Or you could add some lemon juice or vinegar for a tangy touch.

    I hope this helps you enjoy your soup more. Let me know how it turns out.

    A chatty response from Auntie Sydney. I can’t use any dairy because that violates kosher. No dairy and meat in the same dish. Really, the same meal. Gonna add more chicken broth. Then some vinegar if that doesn’t do the trick.

    Can’t believe I’m using Microsoft search. It’s been so bad for so long. But, there you go. I did notice that I got ten queries this time. Wonder if they’re gradually upping the limits of the conversations.

    I do like that it gives you the sources it uses. Not the same as evaluating them, but then that’s the reader’s task. As it always is.

     


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  • New Labs

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Valentine Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Alan. Housing matters cleared up. Mostly. Ron. Luke. Bread Lounge. Evergreen. The ice fisherfolk on Lake Evergreen. The 8 outdoor ice hockey rinks on it. Those 30 or so Elk hanging out. The drive down. Rocks. Mountains. Ice covered Streams. Lodgepole Pines. Ponderosa. Aspen. Chinook Salmon toast and that Dulce le Lecha croissant. Coffee.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Jew with Guns

     

    Going to Evergreen Players today to see one-act plays directed by Tal’s last directing class as an employee of Evergreen Players. Alan has one in the showcase. Ron Solomon’s coming, too. Looking forward to that. A matinee. That magic word in my world of the performing arts.

    Ron sat down with Alan and me at the Bread Lounge yesterday morning. He’s a screenwriter cum entrepreneur. He was part of the writer’s room for Saved By the Bell, but he didn’t like L.A. He wrote a book about Navy Seals published three or four years ago. Now he’s running a company that helps wholesalers make sure their retail prices hold up in the marketplace.

    Ron’s also in the MVP group. He’s a very smart guy. Been around CBE for  years. He mentioned that later in the day he and Dan Herman, past president of the Synagogue, had an appointment at a gun range in Golden with a group called Jews with Guns. I’m not getting on a train. The Synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh pushed him over the edge.

    I told them that if it came to it I’d get a rifle and help them defend the Synagogue. Friends are worth dying for. Family, too. A silly misadventure in Vietnam dreamed up by anti-communist old white men? Not so much. I’m no pacifist. Though Kate was. Thorough going. Miss her.

    Alan’s house is sold. He was going home to pack after breakfast. They close on both deals next week. Move in February. Glad for him. Moving stresses. Not easy.

     

    Glad I dropped back to learn Hangul. Still working at it, but when I get done learning Korean will be easier. Hope to get over there for a month next October. Though. CBE’s got an Israel trip planned at the same time. Always wanted to see Israel. This could be a good opportunity. Will clarify as we get closer.

     

    The what will I pay for my cancer drugs circus still has its tent up. No word yet on the foundation the nice lady from McKesson told me about. I’ll have to pick up some more Erleada samples if I don’t get a call before Tuesday afternoon when I see Kristie.

    Good news though. PSA still undetectable. Lab results came early this morning. Testosterone at 11. Low testosterone is 287 at which point fatigue becomes a factor. Alan’s getting his testosterone boosted for that reason. As for me. Well, I tire easily. But. My cancer doesn’t get its food. That’s the concept.

     

    Ancient Brothers topic this morning is space. The space between and among us. Is it too far? Too close? Mussar has a lot to say about this.

     

     


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  • Salvage. Catastrophic.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Friday gratefuls: The Assistance Fund. Bridgette. Urology Associates. Bond and Devick. Rich. Muddy Buck. Cancer. Bureaucracy. Government and private. Kep the unsteady. Jon, a memory and a hurdle. David, his father. Shirley, his step-mother. Jen. Friends. The staff of life. Coming home to the Mountains. Curvy roads. Snow. Lodgpepole and Aspens. Black Mountain. Climbing Shadow Mountain on Shadow Mountain Drive. The pregnant Mule Deer Doe that crossed my path on the way to Evergreen this morning.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: the pregnant Mule Deer Doe, life in its wonder

     

    Well. Somewhat better news. Still. So. I pay the full copays this month, around $3,000. That tips me over into catastrophic drug coverage. My portion goes to 5% or about $850 a month. Right now that’s the best deal I can get.

    However. The Assistance Fund might pick me up again sometime during the year. If they do, they’ll backdate my account and repay me for all my expenses. Fingers crossed on this one. I’m on a long wait phone line right now to discover how my situation looks.

    This is the problem with charity and philanthropy. Haven’t been on this end of it before. If things change or the funder decides on different priorities, no appeal, and as in this instance no notice. Just gone. We can’t count on the wealthiest among us to share our values or recognize our needs. That’s what government is for.

    Erleada and Orgovyx. Salvage therapy. This charming term refers to all therapies given after the hope of a cure falls away. After the prostatectomy and the radiation failed to cure me, I landed in salvage land. In order to get my salvage therapy cost down I have to get into catastrophic coverage in my insurance plan.

    Had to get an urgent cash infusion to cover the first month’s copay. Paying that should do the trick to put me in a drug cost catastrophe. If my position on the waitlist ends up getting funded, I’ll be made whole. No promises. No way of knowing. Just pay and wait.

    Due to this problem I got kicked off McKesson Pharmaceutical’s account list. Result: Doc has to represcribe. Which means probably Monday at the earliest. Then a shipment has to get here. Good thing Urology Associates fronted me some samples. I should be able to cover the gap between the time all of this gets processed and a new shipment comes to my door.

     

    Had a great breakfast with Rich this morning. He’s teaching a new course on applied philosophy and the Constitution at the School of Mines. Here’s a link to his syllabus. A smart guy. Obv. Also my lawyer. Estate planning and Jon’s probate.

    We click intellectually and decided to meet more often. Maybe every two weeks.

    Breakfast at the Muddy Buck in the tourist part of Evergreen. On our way out Rich greeted a guy he told me was a movie star from Evergreen. A former Seal who had a role in the movie Act of Valor. It might have been his story. I forget right now. A mammoth guy with lots of tattoos. and a Yeti t-shirt on.

     


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  • What? Anger.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Cancer. Co-pays. High anxiety. Workouts. Kep the unsteady. Oh, man. Fear. Box breathing. Numbness. Rock. Deer Creek Canyon. Its consolation. Kate’s holy Valley. Kate’s creek. Need her today. Big Pharma. Big problems. Shadow Mountain. The Hermitage. Herme. Jon, a memory. Ruth. Gabe, the Legomaniac. Northfield High.

    Sparks of joy and awe: The Sun

    Correction: Ruth’s school has allowed her to make up her work in the two classes I mentioned. Glad for that.

     

    Big news today. Yikes! Just got off the phone with McKesson pharmacy. Source of Orgovyx and Erleada, my two prostate cancer drugs. The Assistance fund has exhausted its money for prostate cancer. Oh? Your co-pays are now $800 a month for the Orgovyx and $2,000 a month for the Erleada. What?! The. Hell.

    Had a shipment supposed to arrive today. I have two Orgovyx left. A bit more Erleada. Maybe a week. McKesson has faxed my doc forms for me to be added to the pharmaceutical company’s assistance plan. In this instance then the company will dispense my drugs.

    This causes me some anxiety. Managing it with box breathing. By calling my doc. By writing this. Still. Stunned. Unsure. Uncertain what will come.

    So many cancer patients have the same trouble. Fighting a terminal disease and insurance and big pharma. There is something wrong with this at a root level. Can you help me? Yes. But it’s gonna cost you. What if I can’t pay? Well. Buh bye then.

    Not surprised. Not really. That this has happened right now. Today. Yes. But that there would come a kink in the system. No. A sad commentary on the state of medicine in our wealthy, wealthy country. Wonder if Bezos or Musk could shoot me a check?

    This will occupy my day until it’s sorted. If it can be.

     

    Anger. MVP last night. Some thought anger comes from fear. We agreed it rises up. I admit I don’t understand emotions. How and why they come. But they sure do. My anxiety above has an obvious trigger. Glad I’ve spent a lot of time on how to cope with anxiety. Anger though?

    Before I went to sleep I came up with this idea. Anger comes when something or someone assaults my values. Then. Thinking as an anthropologist. What adaptive advantage does anger hold? Might be like joking behavior. Who and what you laugh at can identify the cultures or subcultures to which you belong. If you’re a Swede, you might make Norwegian or Finnish jokes. If you’re a Northerner. Jokes about Southerners. Southerners. About Yankees. So on.

    It could be the same with anger. Those things which make you angry can identify the culture or subculture to which you belong. If seeing the Confederate flag flown from a pickup truck bed makes you boil? Probably a liberal Northerner. Obama in the Whitehouse. Probably a white supremacist. If you believe your spouse has belittled you and you get angry? The underlying value is self-worth. A challenge to it.

    If you took a community and recorded every instance of anger for a week, I think you could identify the various solidarity groups in the community with ease. Shared values = shared anger. And anger means those values have been belittled or scorned.

    A passing thought.


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  • Dutiful

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Sunday gratefuls: Breakfast with Jen, Ruth, Gabe, Barb. Driving back up the hill. F1. The MIA. The Walker. The docent program. My many years there with good friends and art. Acting class. Creativity class. Origins of North America. Finding the volume of a Mountain. Korean. Pruning moving forward. Interior painting, early February. Probate. Still moving. slow. ly. The Good Life. Scott and Helen Nearing. Eudaimonia. Kristen Gonzalez. Psoriasis. Mark and the USPS. Mary in Kobe. Ancient Brothers.

    Sparks of joy and awe: Eudaimonia

     

    Human flourishing. Eudaimonia. Satisfaction. More important than happiness. Duty is just another word for cultural norms received and accepted. Obligations. On the other hand. Imposed. Why do we do what we do?

    Assessing the life that is neither heroic nor mediocre. Since that’s where most of us end up. No need to measure ourselves against the ends of the bell curve. No need to measure ourselves. But can we be at peace with a life without comparisons?

    As for me, I choose eudaimonia. Flourishing. Satisfaction. And, yes. Duty plays a role. Family. Sacrifice. Friends too. Being there. Wherever love is, there is duty. To be honest. Sincere. Kind. Helpful. To support the best for the other. Right down to the end. And by implication to support the best for yourself. Also, duty. The unexamined life is not worth living. Yes. A duty to yourself to know thyself. And to thy own known Self be true.

     

    What’s interesting for me right now is how much a sense of duty has played in my life. Oh, no! The original oppositional defiant guy admitting to a sense of duty. I who even rebel against my superego. You can’t make me!!! Yes, duty.

    A minor yet significant example. As a convinced feminist of the Betty Friedan/Simone de Beauvoir second wave. At the age of 26. In seminary. Went to the Rice Street Clinic late on a Winter afternoon. A scalpel I felt on the first cut slashed my vas deferens on both sides. Shutting down sperm from my testicles. Being responsible for my own contraception.

    Another. One I’ve mentioned before. Fits here. No. I don’t want a Johns-Manville full scholarship to college. Managing people in a large corporation is not me. Will never be me. High school.

    Once convinced of Vietnam’s sturdiness as a nation, one that had held back China for over 3,000 years. No. I will not fight, nor support that war.

    After reading a convincing study about the future job prospects for Ph.D.’s. No to graduate school.

    Family. Staying in the fire with Jon. Ruth. Gabe. Kate in later life. Mark. Yet also. Cut your hair or leave! Leaving.

    These may not at first reading seem like duty. But they are. A duty to myself, to my own understanding of how to be present in the world.

    When I realized Ruth and Gabe needed us in Colorado. Broaching the idea of a move. Kate on board. Following through.

    Those two and a half acres in Andover. Leaving them better than when we bought them. How? Working it out with Kate over the years. Together. Staying the course with the full cycle of responsibilities throughout the year. Each year.

    And, dogs. Living into their lives. With them from puppyhood to death. Oh. Sweet duty. Painful duty. Life realized in full.


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  • Gloomy inner weather

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Safeway pickup. Safeway pharmacy. Urology Associates. Prostate cancer. Metastases. Erleada. Orgovyx. The Post Office. Kep, who finds his way. Slowly. Diane. Tom. Interlocutors. Alan. Tomorrow. The Ancient Brothers. Early rising. 5:30 am. Omicron booster. Writing over a thousand words a day. How To Become A Pagan and Ancientrails. Snow on its way. Dropping temperatures. My new weather station.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Erleada, keeping the metastases in check.

     

    Read the clinical notes of my radiation oncologist, Dr. Simpson. Starts out: patient with metastatic prostate cancer. Not sure why but it nicked me this time. That phrase. Especially metastatic. That’s me. I have a cancer that has metastasized. A bit later I got the bill for the P.E.T. scan. $1,000 bucks. Then, tried to roll up the rug in my new home office. Too much. I’d waited too late in the day. Result: gloomy mental weather.

    After that I went to Safeway. Pushed outside my comfort zone ( my mussar practice this month) and went inside to get an omicron booster and pick up a prescription for a drug that had run out early. You have to make an appointment for a booster. I didn’t have to the last time. We’ve always done it this way. I’m here; can’t you just go ahead? No. Sigh. Got in line, 8 people. When I got there. Can’t fill it. Your insurance company says not till January 2nd. Well, fuck it.

    So much for pushing past the comfort zone. By the time I got home with my groceries. Which I was able to accomplish. In a funk. Box breathing. Unclench jaw. Damn it. None of this is a big deal. Well, the cancer. Yeah. But that’s not new.

    Made myself some eggs, sopped them up with French bread. Righted the ship after a no good, but not really very bad day.

    I write this to illustrate how easy it is to get off course with a nick here, a nick there. Good to have some tools. Forgot the How do I feel exercise. But. I did do notice five things. A traffic sign. The Grass. Conifer High School. The pavement. Lovely clouds. And my version of box breathing. Breathe in four counts. Hold for seven. Blow out for eight. Repeat. Activates the vagus nerve. And, take some action. Made myself dinner. Calmed down.

    Chesed. Loving kindness. Not just for the other. For yourself as well. Equanimity is a middah, too. Bringing oneself back into balance. I try to remember to show compassion for myself when I get in these spots. Don’t always remember because the feelings, the downer ones, can dominate. For a while. I also try to bring myself back into balance, realize the context, get a perspective on my mood. Can take as long as a day. Sometimes only a few minutes. Yesterday was in between.

    This drag happens much less these days. Hardly at all. Yet. When the blues strike ya, you gotta do somethin’.

     

    Which reminds me. If you haven’t seen the Muscle Shoals documentary on Netflix, I recommend it. Highly. A small town in Alabama with a big influence on popular music. Who recorded there? Percy Sledge. Wilson Pickett. Aretha Franklin. The Rolling Stones. Duane Allman. Lynyrd Skynyryd. Bob Dylan. Bono. Etta James. Clarence Carter. Bobby Gentry. Kris Kristofferson. Steve Winwood and Traffic. Alabama. Paul Anka. Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel. Bob Seger. Leon Russel. Otis Redding. Rod Stewart. And a whole lot of others.

    Worth it for the inspiration.


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  • So much to see. To learn.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Winter and the Wolf Moon

    Tuesday gratefuls: 8 years in Colorado. On the Solstice. The long dog ride with Tom. Memories. Challenges. Family. Death. Divorce. Mental and physical illnesses. Beauty. The Rocky Mountains. The Wild Neighbors. Mountain hiking. Deep snow. Sudden. Then, suddenly gone. Living at altitude. Becoming a member of CBE. Elk and Mule Deer visiting our back. Blue Skies. Black Mountain. Vega. Gertie. Rigel. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Who loved the Mountains.

    Sparks of joy and awe: That dog ride 8 years ago. Talking story.

     

    Back of the car anthropology. Two vanity plates. YAHWEHS. ODACIOUS. The first on a jet black fancy Audi. The other on a Lexus sedan. Also. Stickers. I heart Aging and Dying. No baby on board. Feel free to ram me. Toyoda. With yoda ears on the T and the a. I love the way we express ourselves on the back of our vehicles. So revealing. Full disclosure. I have a large decal of Lake Superior on the back window of Ruby. And, an ADL Dissent is Patriotic on a side window. There are too the cars seemingly held together by stickers like the occupants got started on the project and just. couldn’t. stop.

     

    On December 20th, 2014 Tom Crane and I loaded Rigel, Vega, and Kep in Ivory. All three trazodoned. Tom drove straight through. We talked the whole way. Talking story. The conversation continues now, eight years later. Gertie rode with Kate in the rental van filled with stuff we didn’t want the movers to take. I remember Kate telling me she bought Gertie a hamburger at one of their stops. A satisfied dog.

    These have not been easy years. No. They have been fulfilling, satisfying years though. Deep intimacy between Kate and me, especially as she began her long decline. Putting cancer in the chronic illness box. Being here for the kids and Jon after the divorce. Now for Ruth and Gabe after Jon’s death. Becoming part of the CBE community. Making friends. Learning from the ancient civilization of the Jews. Kabbalah. The Torah. Mussar. Talmud. Mitzvahs.

    The Wild Neighbors. The Mountains. The Streams. The hiking. Mountain adjustments. Four Seasons. Eight Seasons. The Mountain Fall. Golden Aspens. Against green Lodgepoles. Black Mountain punctuated with gold, then green. Snow flocked in Winter. Wildflowers in the Mountain Spring. Fawns. Kits. Cubs. Elk and Moose Calves. The long Summers. Beautiful in their own right, yet also angsty with the ever present threat of Wildfire.

    Living here has been, is an adventure. In relationships. In deep learning. An immersion in the world of Mountains. After the world of Lakes and Rivers and rich Soil.

    So much more to see. To learn.

     

    Visited Carmax yesterday. The Jeep. Prepared to sell it, then Uber home. A first for me. But. Can’t take a North Carolina power of attorney. Colorado makes it difficult. Do you want me to get you the necessary papers? Yes. Talked to Sarah while the nice lady in the blue Carmax smock did that. Took fifteen minutes. Many pieces of paper. Post it notes. Sign here stickers. OK. Thanks. Back up the hill.

     

    Got two calendars as presents.  Aimed at different parts of me. A Zen Calendar from Tom. A New Yorker Cartoons calendar from Sarah and Jerry. Yep. I recognize both of those guys as resident within me. Wonderful to be seen.

     

     


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  • Moving

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Samain and the Holimonth Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Gabe, coming up today through Sunday. Cold outside, 7 degrees. Kep. MVP. Alan. Sold his house. Evergreen. The Elk of Evergreen. The Bread Lounge. That dulce de leche croissant. Vince and his laborer. Moving my home office into the house. Today. Ruth. Hanukah. Advent. Christmas. The Winter Solstice. Yule. Putin. Ukraine. The Moon, the Sun, and the Stars.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting things done.

     

    Breakfast with Alan yesterday at the Bread Lounge. They sold their house. But. The one they want to buy continues to slide back and forth between offers, apparently a couple who are in conflict. He wants to stay; she wants a garden. To make it more fun the sellers agent is on her honeymoon in Southeast Asia.

    Alan adapts quickly. If there’s a couple of months between the sale of their house and being able to move in somewhere new, he and Cheri will either go to Hawai’i or rent a penthouse in the same building.  Or move into a furnished Air BnB type place. Penthouse now means, I learned, any unit above the 38th floor.

    He’s excited about a new adventure. Living downtown after over 20 years overlooking the Continental Divide in Genessee. He’s a happy guy, making the changes positive. Sorta like my buddy, Mark.

    Had the Chinook Salmon toast again. Alan had corned beef hash and eggs. Afterward I bought a ridiculously expensive croissant filled with dulce de leche. Had it later in the day. OMG. Totally worth the price.

     

    Back home. Mussar online. Discussing a page in Jewish Values called Untamed Anger and the Death of Love. Focused on the story of King David and Michal, his wife, the daughter of King Saul. About modulating our voice, our words, even our intentions in situations of anger. Avoiding sarcasm. Staying present. Being aware that words can kill love in a marriage. A good discussion.

     

    After I had to go unplug and otherwise disconnect my loft computer and its peripherals, move all the items I’d collected near and on it. Clear off the Levenger laptop desk. Move chairs off the Oriental rug. Also clean off the side table I bought for my birthday several years ago. Boxed up computer wires, speakers, microphone.

    Yet this morning I’ll box up teaware. The Zojirushi.

    All of that will move into the home office here in the Hermitage. Plus my computer chair and a rolling file, the Oriental rug and one of the Ikea reading chairs.

    Why you might ask? Kep. He can no longer go up and down the loft stairs. I’ve begun to write my new book and I need to be on the desktop. To do that I would have to leave him alone in the house while I was up there. When he was younger, that would have been fine, but now he wants to be near me most of the time. He’ll get a bit more exercise going up and down the stairs to the third level. Which have grippy treads on them.

    The loft will continue to be a library, art studio, gym, and reading spot.

    Oh. The Stickley bookcase is also going upstairs into Kate’s old sewing room to complete the conversion of it into a dining room. Still pruning work to do in it, but it’s switchover in purpose has already happened.


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