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  • Live Until I Die

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Net sheets. Robert Martin. Realtors. Hawai’i dreaming. Running the numbers. Growing up. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Selling. Mussar. Mussar Thursday group. Mussar MVP. Clarity. Sudden. Following the path as it opens before me. Taking my cues from friends and experts. And, of course, my own heart. Problems. Solutions. An Ancientrail for sure.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends

     

    Oh. My. Ran my own cash flow analysis this morning. I think that’s what it was anyhow. Gave me inner peace. Not kidding. I’ll have this much to spend by this date. This much by this date. Use the money as it comes, then goes. Pay attention. Don’t fall behind.

    So glad I contacted Ruth Hayden. I asked her to remind me of things I already know. She did just that. After some hesitation I did a solid run on my expenses as they recur on a monthly and annual basis. Got solid numbers. Income is easy. Outgo is more chaotic, harder to systematize.

    These three months: July, August, and September were filled with expenses. A trip to Hawai’i. A new hot water heater. My premium for my Long Term Care insurance. Plus what would have broken the bank, that trip to Durango, if my buddy Tom hadn’t stepped in to help.

    I saw it all coming. That was the good part. But how to untangle it, find the right tools to manage it, and insure it doesn’t happen again? That was the hard part. Pretty sure I got it. Not so hard, but numbers and dates have to be paid attention to. Having the money available after a big bill comes due doesn’t cut it. It has to be available on time.

    Figured my own process that I believe will work. Up till now I counted on money being there. At the right time. Oops. Like for example when a six week old check hit my account and put me into overdraft territory. Or, when I looked out to September and couldn’t find enough cash available to pay that insurance premium. Not good.

    Decided to take it as motivation to finally wrassle this gator to the ground.

    Realized just now that all this falls under a more generic habit I’ve worked at hard at folding into my life. Stop anxiety producing things before they start. Gonna die? Yes. OK. Deal with it, recognize it. Own it. Gonna move to Hawai’i? Do the tasks necessary to make it there. Need to eat? Shop. Or, go to a restaurant. Need reassurance or input? Go to friends and family. Have prostate cancer? Stay on top of it, but let it be. Those sort of things.

     

    Robert Martin’s numbers and Alice Carmody’s are almost the same. Still waiting on Linda. Her SO died two weeks ago and the funeral was Wednesday. Giving her extra time. The numbers from Robert and Alice, using comps in a low part of the real estate market, put me with a solid net between $500,000 and $600,000. That’s what I need and the February market should improve those numbers a bit.

    Based all of this on the Zillow estimate, but didn’t know till the end of this work week whether it was accurate. It was. Sort of a shoot, fire, aim situation. I sought the information on the hope it was out there. It was.

    Lots of balls still to juggle, but I’m having fun with this so far. I’d have had a lot more fun if it wasn’t for that damned Covid. My 02 sats have begun to fall a bit, too. No good, but I’m not worried. O2 concentrators here. Sea level in March.

    Yes, there’s the possibility of bony mets in my spine. Yes, there’s the possibility of some respiratory hooha, but I’ll manage them if and when they come. Do what’s necessary.

     

    Live until I die. That’s my prime objective.


    Coronavirus Family Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hawai'i Health Hermitage Shadow Mountain The Move

  • Fatigued

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Harvest Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Luke. Alice. Kep. Kate, always Kate. Hawai’i. Meds. Covid. Sleep. Dreams. Taking action. Agency. Owning my desire to move on. Finding a realtor. The Windward side of Oahu. Ocean. Reefs. Tide Pools. Sea Turtles. Animals of the Water. Volcanic Islands. Tradewinds. Reconstructionist Judaism. Potlatch.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Potlatch

     

    Contacted LG about my Watery experience with their washer. Under warranty. Will get taken care of sometime in the near future. Still a hassle because. No washer.

    Laundromat. Always an experience filled with memories of other points in my life. The smell of soap powder, sudsy Water, the warm breath of dryers opening. Those hard plastic chairs. Change machines and soap dispensers. Also, and my favorite part, the bulletin board offering house cleaning services, massage, junk removal, homes for sale, photography, lawn care. Fun to see what people post.

    On a similar theme I called Boiler Medic to see if my lifetime warranty payment had been approved for my new hot Water heater. Did I mention I’m tired of dealing with this stuff? No call back yet. I suspect it wasn’t approved and they feel bad about telling me. Hard Water. A possible reason for denial.

     

    Had Luke, the Executive Director of CBE, over for dinner last night. A fine conversation. He’s a thoughtful, multi-talented guy who’s making the shift from a life of science to working for non-profits and to Judaism. A convert. Have not had many people over. Luke dropped out of a materials science Ph.D. program at the School of Mines.

     

    Took myself out for breakfast yesterday. Chicken fried steak, eggs over easy, and fried potatoes. Since Covid I’ve had this need for protein. May do the same today.

     

    Had a subtle but powerful moment yesterday. I walked out to the mailbox to collect my mail. And a memory of a walk Seoah and I took out to the end of the driveway flashed over my thoughts. The last day of shiva. A ritual. The members of the minyan form two lines and the mourner walks through them to the end of the driveway. Shiva is over and the world outside of intense grieving at home awaits.

    Grief returned for a moment. Then, I had this wonderful feeling. That Kate was blessing my move to Hawai’i. Part of the wider world beyond our former home together. Unexpected. A mixture of sadness, yearning, and joy.

     

    Alice has come and gone. She seems very competent, too. The comps she offered were lower than I hoped, but she’s at work finding more. This is a tough time period as it’s the slowest and lowest part of the market. Of course, those things can change. Once I have everybody’s net sheets, I’ll have a better idea of where I am.

    No matter what I’m committed to moving off of Shadow Mountain. If I end up without enough money to make Hawai’i work, I’ll find somewhere else.

     

    Fatigued today after a good night’s sleep. Must be lingering Covid. A little jangly, too. Hope this doesn’t continue. Gut issues seem to have resolved. A gift that keeps on giving.

     

     

     

     

     


    Coronavirus Feelings Fourth Phase Friends Hawai'i Health Hermitage Judaism Memories Shadow Mountain The Move

  • An Island and Ocean Guy

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Durango Moon

    Friday gratefuls: Cool Morning. Kep, the quiet dog. Senior move managers. Hawai’i. Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain. Lodgepole Pine. Aspen. Trees and their communities. Tom and Paul on Overstory. CBE. Dreams. Taking care of that injured dog in my dream. Planning the move. So many moving parts. Another drug run. Pruning. Right sizing. Healing. Covid. Paxlovid. Royal Hawai’ian Moving Company.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Early morning exercise in Hawai’i

     

    Finally back upstairs. Feeling pretty normal. Some gut issues. Some fatigue. Otherwise. So. Much. Better. This was a blank couple of weeks for the most part. Some work done on the move. Some cancer matters kept cooking. Otherwise tired and in bed or tired and sitting in a chair reading or watching TV. Or, clueless and not sure where I was.

    I recommend against it. Find that next vaccine. Stay away from crowded indoor places. Be kind to yourself and others. Keep that streak alive if you haven’t had it. It’s a bastard.

    Illness does have that when you stop beating your head against the wall moment when it lifts. Oh, yeah! I remember this feeling. Me. All here and functioning. Have it now.

    Gonna continue to rest and recuperate until Monday, then it’s back to the grind. Hiking, exercising. Pruning. Right-sizing. Getting this move underway.

     

    Called senior move managers yesterday. No joy yet. Apparently out of state, especially to Hawai’i, makes them skittish. Not totally sure why since what they would do here remains the same. I’ll know more as I keep contacting them.

    Really need help organizing the steps required for liftoff. So many. Key steps: deciding what to move. Deciding how to eliminate what I don’t want to move. Getting house cleared out, painted and patched. Choose a realtor. Put house on market. Move stuff to Hawai’i. Figure out what to do with Kep until I have a place for us both. Decide when all this should happen. Health insurance. Sell car. Not sure how to make it all work smoothly.

    So excited though. Want to become an Island and Ocean guy. Been a Mountain Man for eight years. New elements. Go boldly where I’ve not gone before.

     

    Going to get some breakfast. Find myself craving meat. Protein. Must have depleted my stores. Had sushi last night. Not enough. I’ll get back to my Mediterranean diet. Gotta get the body right first.

     

    House cleaners coming today. Glad. Place needs it. Has that sick person feel.    Ta.

     

     

     


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  • Short one

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Durango Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: Covid receding. Tired less. Dr. Simpson. Gabe and a girl. Ruth and a new guy. Jon coming up to mow. Diane. Mary. Mark. A sunny day. Getting ready to get on the move tomorrow. Look for senior move managers. Start pruning books, one shelving unit at a time. Make list of furniture, appliances, kitchen tools, dishes and pots and pans to take. Start cooking through my pantry. Make the move real. Small steps. Realtors.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Recovery

    Yesterday was a slow day. More sleeping. TV. Reading. Feeling more and more normal. Gradually.

    Not much to report. Realtors will all have been  here at least once after next Wednesday. A new retirement projection looks good though I’m gonna need a little help to understand it. Diane suggested the gradual pruning of my library.  Take books downstairs that I want to keep and put them in the garage. A good idea. I’m starting tomorrow. She also suggested using the area behind the knee wall in the sewing room as a place to sequester furniture, appliances, dishes, pots and pans, other things I want to take. Making it real.

     

    Still fussing over results from the last set of scans. Might be mets, might now. Maybe an MRI. Maybe not. Adds a little flavor to the soup.

     

     


    Coronavirus Hawai'i Health The Move

  • Buttery

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Lughnasa and the Durango Moon (oops. Lughnasa. Not Imbolc. My bad.)

    Tuesday gratefuls: Not on a ventilator. Vaccines. Boosters. Omicron. Living in pandemic times. Caring friends. Who’ve kept touch. My body. Its immune system. A blue Colorado Sky. Hawai’i. Minnesota. The Soil. Here. In Minnesota. In Indiana, the best of the Hoosier State. The Volcanic Soil of the Hawai’ian Islands. Pele. Kiluaea. Mauna Loa. The great mystery of the World Ocean. the Kep. Dreams. Doubling down on moving. Back to it tomorrow. Ode’s hippy days. And, nights. Life after a harsh Covid slap. Sweeter, more precious.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Immune response

     

    Today I feel only tired. Brain fog lifted. No residual symptoms except for a slight cough. Amazing. Tomorrow will be a full week since I got so hammered by the virus that I could barely drag myself around. Memory of that Wednesday, wiped. Now, less than a week later, I’m on the up ramp toward feeling good. Virologists. Immunologists. Pharmaceutical workers. Pharmacies. Pharmacists. It takes a metropolis and lotsa labs to beat a virus. I’m thankful for all of them.

    This is a misery through which millions and millions have passed. And many succumbed. What better evidence do we need for our essential sameness? The virus doesn’t recognize skin color. Nationality. Ethnic origin. Religious preference or sexual preference. It recognizes the human body. The one we all share. Perhaps our mutual suffering can teach us what reason seems unable to.

    Suffering is as much a human common denominator as love. When our body sinks into pain, to illness, to fragility caused by a microscopic organism, we experience what others of our species experience. The agony of existence, its rough edges, its limits. When we feel love, we experience what others of our species experience. Its sublimity. its comfort, its infinite possibility.

    Find the wisdom about our common life in these most basic, universal and real shared moments. We all get sick. Suffer. We all fall in love. Rejoice. Let’s reach out to each other in both.

    On the last day of quarantine my doctor said to me, “Wear your mask if you go out. Stay away from crowds and crowded places. After next Monday, you’re good.” Gonna stay in for the next week anyhow. Nap. Gradually start exercising again. Eat more. She also said, get a flu shot as soon as you feel better. I will.

     

    Not said much about Lughnasa this year. But. Just read an NYT article about Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Got me going. Unless you live in Minnesota or are particularly attuned to its state fair traditions, you’ll not have heard of Princess Kay. Or butter sculpting. Let me explain.

    Each year (asterisk for the pandemic years) before the Minnesota State Fair begins its August through Labor Day run, a young woman leader of the state’s dairy industry is chosen. She becomes Princess Kay of the Milky Way. Since 1965 a full-sized bust of Princess Kay and the other four finalists has been sculpted in the butter booth of the Dairy building. Yes, that’s right. 900 pounds of butter, salted, gets shaped into the likeness of all five young women.

    You wouldn’t believe the ice-fishing on Lake Mille Lacs either. Minnesota has some strange traditions. That Winter Festival, too.

    The relationship to the Celtic holiday of Lughnasa (not Imbolc, that starts in February) is this: On August 1st the Celts began a market holiday for the first fruits from the field. Corn dollies. (wheat=corn) A parade with the first shock of wheat. Loaves of bread from the first harvested wheat. Thus, btw, the Catholic feast day of Lammas, or loaves.

    This agriculture celebration with feasting and games and display of farming’s first fruits of the year kicks off the three season harvest holiday that includes Fall on the autumnal equinox and Samain, or Summer’s End, on October 31st. It’s resonance continues in county fairs and state fairs in Great Britain and the U.S.

    On a personal note. In 1971 while an intern in Ada, Minnesota I participated in the wedding of the just chosen Princess Kay of the Milky Way. It was considered quite a privilege.

     


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  • Covid. Last Day of Quarantine

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Durango Moon

    Max

    Sunday gratefuls: Alive and at home. Kep. Good sleep. Covid. Paxlovid. Pharmacies. Ann Brown. Very cool Mountain Morning. Lodgepoles. Their red Bark. Aspens. Their gray Bark. And quivering Leaves. That Rabbit that likes to hide under the raised fire pit. Serious hide and go seek. Feeling more and more human. Maybe 50-60%. Still fatigued. Mind much clearer. O2 sats good when up and about. CJ Pickett. The internet.

    Monday gratefuls: Rich. The Pizza. Less fatigue. 4 days, then gradually getting better. Another rest day. Final day of quarantine. Full masking, no close contact until Sunday. More Rain. Drought weakening. Green Forests and Grasses. Colors deepened by moisture.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Super Max at 1

     

    Some improvement each day now. Still pretty weak, taking a three hour nap midday, but my body seems to have gathered itself with the aid of Paxlovid and the boosters to push this virus back. Reassuring.

    Still would not recommend it. Thoughts turning now to after effects. Hoping none. Obvi. By next weekend I expect I’ll be back to my normal, rip-roaring, go-gettem self.

    It’s interesting, after all the masking, vaccinations, boosters, trying to stay away from enclosed spaces, to finally have had it. I made it to August 17th, 2022, the day before Kate’s birthday. Wednesday was so miserable I don’t remember it except for the extreme weakness. Thursday was bad, too. Friday less so. Saturday better. Today, better, too.

    Given how I felt on Wednesday I would not call my symptoms mild, but the very bad ones were short-lived. Grateful for that. Also grateful for no respiratory involvement. That’s what I feared up here at 8,800 feet with my compromised diaphragm.

    Now I know what it’s like. At least my version. It sounds like each person’s covid journey is unique though sharing certain over all characteristics.

    Written on Monday: I got sick, real sick, then began improving after the fourth day. Which seems common among folks I’ve talked to. I think I’m recovering a little more slowly. Hard to suss out though. Hypothyroid. 8,800 feet. Covid. All mushed together I think. What remains is fatigue. A common complaint for me for some months now.

    I had hoped to ride it out until September when the new vaccines for variants were available. Didn’t make it.

     

    Giving myself the rest of the week as a quiet time, a healing retreat. Try to get the house picked up today. Other details sorted. Still not crisp, but I’ll get back. I can tell.

     

     


    Coronavirus Health

  • Wrasslin’ Match

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Durango Moon

    Friday gratefuls: O2 sats still good with concentrators. Conifer Med. Calling me each evening to see how I’m doing. Marilyn who brought chicken soup. Kep. Snuggling. Sick time. Out of the flow of time. Waiting. A sunny Colorado morning. Tara. Susan. Tom.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Oxygen concentrators

     

    Day 4 with the other big C. My head is clear. No fever. Weak though. Moving around to feed Kep wears me out. No appetite. I am able to keep my O2 sats in the safe range with my oxygen concentrators. I find it hard to stay focused for long. House is getting messy as my usual pick up and clean up patterns have seemed too hard. I feel like I’m getting incrementally better. Head ache. Really wanted to give this whole experience a miss.

    I work hard at not being defined by my illnesses. Right now, for this week or so, I am defined by Covid. It’s basically shut me down. I get up, feed Kep, come downstairs to sit in my chair. If it’s a particular active day, I might get back up and go fix some food.

    Quarantine is easy. Like my life most days anyhow. As I wish it.

    So far, and may it stay this way, this is far easier than the flu I had back in 2018. That was harsh illness. Knocked me down and almost out. Lost 15 pounds.

     

    Not feeling like saying much else. Oh, maybe this. My spirits are good. I hope to see the end point of this wrasslin’ match in the next few days.

     

     

     


    Coronavirus Health

  • Settling in with Covid

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Durango Moon

    Thursday gratefuls: Oxygen concentrators. Conifer med. Ann Brown. Paxlovid. Covid. My bed. My schedule. Flexible. Illness. These strange and twisted times. The Aspen out the basement window. Lodgepoles behind it. Kep quiet for now. Liz Cheney. The GOP. Trump, the clown car President.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Paxlovid.

     

    Wanted to get a Paxlovid script. Called my doc. Positive Covid test. OK, they said, we can see you tomorrow at 3:30. I’m 75, have prostate cancer and a compromised diaphragm. Let me see. OK. Come to the Conifer office at 11:30. Two kind persons came out, a med tech, and Ann Brown, a P.A.

    The med tech got my vitals. Ann talked to me about the illness. She reminded me of Paxlovid rebound possibility. Biden. Due to low oxygen saturation numbers she wanted me to drive into the emergency room at Swedish for a chest x-ray. I was not eager to go further than back home.

    She agreed to my going home since I have three oxygen concentrators left over from Kate’s long use. She ordered the Paxlovid and coached me:

    If you can’t keep your o2 above 90 on the concentrator, go to the emergency room. If you get a fever of over a 102 go to the emergency room. If you get chest pains or shortness of breath, go the emergency room. The big concern is pneumonia, not the covid itself. Pay attention, Covid can turn.

    At King Soopers, I got out in my Acorn slippers. Didn’t think I’d have to get out of the car. Walk up pharmacy. Got my drugs and went home. I couldn’t have made it down the hill to an emergency room. When I got home, myo2 sat was 78. The oxygen concentrator brought it back up. And continues to hold it at 90-94. May that continue.

    In the times I’ve talked with docs and their staff about Covid something has stood out: respect. This virus has challenged them, met their efforts to ameliorate, and often has given them the slip. One doc said, Covid is weird.

    In essence. Respect the disease because it can go down pathways we don’t expect and sometimes very quickly. So. I’ve got my oximeter, my oxygen concentrators, and my Paxvolid. Thermometer, too. Keeping tabs on myself.

     

    The spreading stain of Trumpism and Trumpists. Makes me cry for our republic. Breaking something while claiming to defend it. A curious and tragic strategy.

     

    Tired. Now. Tomorrow.

     


    Coronavirus Health Politics

  • Ah. Damn.

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Imbolc and the Durango Moon

    Wednesday gratefuls: In home Covid tests. Feeling crummy. Kep. Sleep. Linda. A sweetheart. And, a Norwegian! Diane. A blue Colorado Sky. Lodgepoles lookin’ green. My body. Still at it. Dr. Simpson. A good guy. RJ. Positive meeting.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hawai’i

     

    Oh, joy. A positive Covid test. Well, I’m no longer in that number. Of those who’ve not had it. Calling doc as soon as they open. Self-quarantine. Not sure how long. Right now at least not more than a bad cold. Knew something was off.

    Not guilty. More angry. I’ve done what I could. Still got it. Damn. As it is. Do what I can now.

     

    Am feeling unfocused, less than clear. Did get a good night’s sleep last night. That helped.

     

    That’s all for today.

     


    Coronavirus

  • Erev Beltane

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring and the Beltane Moon

    Saturday gratefuls: Kate, always Kate. Pete and the chandelier. Better than I thought. More exercise. Call from Ode. Breakfast with Alan on Monday. No Mouse in the kitchen Rat zapper! Cool night. Wild dream. New Acorns. Still reading Amanda Palmer. Qin Empire: Alliance. TV. Outer Range. TV. High Country News. P-22, the Mountain Lion of Griffith Park in LA.

    Sparks of Joy and Awe: The predator eating the Mice

     

    I throw the dead Mice over the fence. In a very short time they’re gone. Gonna watch this AM. See who this critter is. Glad to feed somebody. Makes this less onerous. A circle of life thing.

     

    Presentation tomorrow for Groveland. Zoom. Quite the thing. Something I couldn’t have done otherwise. Devolution. Trying to follow David Sanders advice. Write as I talk. Still working on reimagining faith after all these years. Getting very close to what I saw originally. The key move may be asking why privilege faith in the unseen when the seen has as much power in our daily lives? Our whole lives. I will post Devolution after I’ve presented it. Happy for critiques, thoughts.

     

    Ode called from the road yesterday. On his way to Taos. Blown away by the West. His sketchbooks, my blog. A daily discipline. Influenced by life in the moment. A confidant. To whom we tell our story. While other people listen in. Or see. Native to each of us. Over many years. A friend. He saw this similarity.

    A legacy of a sort. Maybe a legacy in reality. I’ve ensured Ancientrails’ longevity past my death in my trust. Not really a bid for immortality or legacy, but a way for grandkids and kids to remember Dad or grandpop. What was he like? Oh, yeah. Kate’s quilts, mug rugs, shirts, dresses, wall hangings. A bit of us hanging over in the visible world: stitches, color and ink, words.

     

    Healthspan. Asked Kristie about it. She said I could live 10 plus years with the treatments available for prostate cancer. Kristen, my PCP, said 90 was reachable with my current health conditions. Both positive and sobering. I mean, geez, even fifteen years. That would get me back to only 60. Not that long ago.

    Still. Able to live, love, write, travel. Tomorrow is not promised. Only this moment is sure. Gonna keep at it until I can’t. Unafraid. Except about getting Covid. Damn that disease got under my skin. Stephanie, the PA I see at Conifer Medical said, “Covid’s weird.” She had a tone of respect in her voice. Wu wei.

     

    The world. Odd things. Why my gratefuls include items like prostate cancer, death, grieving, illness, war, climate change. We see only dimly, though that darkly glass. Putin invades Ukraine. Awful. Ukraine stands up to Putin. Amazing. The fractured EU and Nato begins to heal, the West remembers itself. Wonderful. Ukraine pushes Russia out of Kyiv and begins to carry the fight to them. Wow. Biden’s handling of our response elevates him in world leadership.

    As does his handling of Covid. Which we may now find ourselves sort of out of. As a pandemic anyhow. Not gone. Probably never gone. Like the flu. Will we need Covid shots, boosters now? Like flu shots. Annually? Maybe. Fine.

    Covid has changed the nature of work. Created an economic recovery which has raised wages for the working class. Has cost us so many lives. So much time together. Made us realize how precious community is, even for solitaries like me.

    We often see well only in what Kate used to call the retrospectoscope. Why we need history. So much. I love history. And art. And religion. And writing. And people. And Shadow Mountain. And Arapaho National Forest. And Maxwell Creek. And whatever eats my dead Mice. Even the Mice. And life itself. Death, too.

     

     

     

     

     

     


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