Category Archives: Family

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Kabbalah, Mussar, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

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Imbolc and the Seoah Citizenship Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Snow. Kate. Our 32 plus years together. Her laugh. Her wry humor. Her keen intelligence. Her knowledge of cooking and medicine. And classical music. Her. Kep, snuggling this morning before we got up. MVP. Forbearance. Savlanut. Diane. March on Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Diane, cousin and friend

Tarot: How can my new life emerge from my grief?

spread: current situation, obstacle, advice

Cards: queen of stones, bear. seven of stones, clearance. three of arrows, jealousy.

 

And so the anniversary heads into the evening. Early, starting this blog. Talking to Diane. Then, 30 minutes on the treadmill. After. David Sanders. A talk about art and life. About Faure’s requiem and Up on Cripple Creek. Over to mussar to be with friends. Drive to Marshdale Burger and get an improbable burger/corned beef, sauerkraut and thousand island dressing with tater tots. Mountain health food.

On the way back get a call from Ruth. Jon had a seizure in the class room and got taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Ruth leaning into the situation, handling it. Still uncertain as to what caused the seizure.

First anniversary without my Kate. Peopled with friends and family. Soothing. A few tears at mussar. Some last night thinking about, something. Something random. Kep came up, his worried look on, nuzzled me. I kissed his furry head.

David and I talked about a sheet I filled out for him, a sheet of open ended questions. We got through two of the questions. Life is… Short, art is long. Two favorite songs. I remembered why Faure’s Requiem meant so much to me.

Carolyn Levy and I went to the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. The cello concerto left me in tears. Grieving my marriage to Raeone, to being alone, to not knowing what came next. A heart thing. Deep. In fact I think it may have been the night I decided Carolyn wasn’t the one. A smart, beautiful, talented woman. Just not for me.

Up on Cripple Creek includes this line: A drunkard’s dream if I ever did see one. And I know that to be a lie. A drunkard’s dream would be a nightmare, one bringing disability and death.

Dave said I was a wonderful person and a wonderful teacher. Therapist talk, yeah, still nice to hear.

32 in gematria, both David and Jamie said, is heart. Kabbalah has a saying, have the heart and the mouth in line with each other. Authenticity. Yes. Today, this 32nd celebration of our wedding is all about heart for me. I speak that celebration on these pages. To her, wherever she may be. To myself, still here. To Jon, in University hospital. To Ruth, acting like a grown-up.

As Mindy said, one of the things she learned after the death of her husband was that she had to become friends with sadness. Yes. Sadness tells the heart’s tale. Its yearning for that which was, which now cannot be. Yet, it also speaks of the depth of love, the honor of a long time together, the truth of two hearts that beat as one.

Don’t know what the evening holds with Jon. With Ruth and Gabe. Whatever it is, it is an extension of our marriage, our choice to be here with them. Living our promise. Enough. Results not guaranteed.

Aging, Coronavirus, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Politics, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Tarot

the moment when change is possible

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Imbolc and the Moon of Seoah’s Citizenship

Babar on Dick Cavett, Jon Olson, Spark Gallery

Sunday gratefuls: Jon. Spark Gallery. Tom Liker. His paintings. Santa Fe Art District in Denver. Rocky Yama Sushi. Rabbi Jamie. Divorcing. Luke. The Mussar group. MVP. Snow. Cold. The Ancient Brothers. David Sanders. Kep. Ukraine. Zelensky. Kate, always Kate. Rigel. Kristine. Kristie. Erleada. Orgovyx. Prostate cancer. Deer Creek Canyon. Living with, living in spite of, living into. Living.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rabbi Jamie

Tarot: Two of Vessels, Attraction

 

Accent acute. Accent grave. The cedilla. Diacritical markings. “The word diacritic is a derivative of Greek diakritikos, meaning “separative” or “able to distinguish,” which is based on the prefix dia-, meaning “through” or “across,” and the verb krinein, “to separate.”” Merriam-Webster

Kairos. Another Greek word. This one often used in theology, there translated as crisis. This from wikipedia: ‘the right, critical, or opportune moment’. In modern Greek, kairos also means ‘weather’. It is one of two words that the ancient Greeks had for ‘time’; the other being chronos. Another translation: the moment when change is possible.

We have lived for this whole millennium in interesting times. Since 9/11/2001. That was the first and so far most impactful inflection point. It is easy to separate, to distinguish between the pre-9/11 world and its aftermath in which we still live.

It was a kairos moment, a moment when change was possible, and we chose, through the dark machinations of Rumsfeld, Cheney, Wolfowitz, and their likable stooge, George Bush, Osama Bin Laden’s exact goal: an asymmetrical war considered a holy war, or. better, an unholy war against Muslim’s who co-opted the idea of jihad.

We were in the right; they were in the wrong. Let’s go get’em! Now 21 years later the wreckage of our intervention has left smoking ruins in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and to a lesser extent in Lebanon and Palestine. We’ve spent lives, a trillion dollars or two, but who’s counting, and our reputation as a beacon of liberty. Coming well after another stupid war, the Vietnamese War, these twenty one years have eroded the idea of democracy and helped fuel the rise of oligarchs and autocrats.

Kairos II. A macro problem, let’s call it. Because the next big shock was microscopic, a virus. Can’t even see the damned thing. We’re still not done with it, may never be done with it, and millions have died world wide. We’ve holed up in our houses, become afraid of our neighbors and friends, let alone the maskless vigilantes who so badly misunderstand liberty that they’re dying by the thousands without needing to.

Kairos III. Sorta in the middle of all this, what?, horror? George Floyd. In my former home town, Minneapolis. The San Francisco of the Wheat Belt, a progressive’s dream city if there ever was one. Black Lives Matter. Riots and protests. All over the world. Where did we put that beacon anyhow?

Of course riding high above all this was Kairo Prime of our time, climate change. Super wildfires. Ocean rise. Tumbling condos. Jacked up hurricanes and tornadoes. Changing weather patterns. A lot of record warmth. Uneven rains, 800 year droughts. Geez.

We got a lot going on here as I head into my 75th year. Three quarters of a century and I’ve never seen any time like these last twenty. Even the Vietnam War and the movement seem preparatory, not diacritical as I once thought.

And I have grandchildren. Who have to live into this world we’ve birthed. Yes, none of this had to happen. But cooler heads did not prevail and we got global warming. Peaceniks failed and we got forever wars. The civil rights era came up short and we got George Floyd, Trayon Martin, Ahmaud Arberry. How do I sit down with Ruth and Gabe and say sorry?

I really, really don’t know. Yes, of course love. Yes, of course compassion. Yes, of course justice. Knowing this from the jump doesn’t seem to have saved me from implication as a failure in every kairotic moment, every event diacritically identified here.

And, I’m tired. Not sure I have the eagerness or the energy necessary for another fight. Without a fight how can I hope to live with myself in my last quarter century? Or so.

Yet. Joy. Patience. Loving kindness. Honor. Holiness. Also necessary. Perhaps I can evoke, provoke those? Keep tossing virtues into the collective until something catches fire? I don’t know and I don’t pretend to know.

I do know that I cannot be silent, nor complicit. The chief sins of our age.

 

Family, Feelings, Judaism

The Ancientrail to Joy Winds Through Sadness

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Imbolc and the Moon of Seoah’s Citizenship

I offer you this because it spoke to my own hard-ship over the last year. And I appreciate each of you who read this as one of the members of the crew who has helped me steer to calmer waters, a more joyful place. Reading it can help.

 

Sunday Gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie’s piece in this month’s Shofar, the CBE newsletter.

“…this psalm, Psalm 102, reminded me of an often-overlooked truth. The pathways to the kind of enduring and exalted joy we seek goes through and not around the disappointments, struggles, and tragedies of this life. Holidays like Purim and Passover do not avoid the grave threats of power hungry demagogues like Haman, and dictators like a Pharoah trying to perpetuate a slave-based economy.

With groggers in hand, we read in the scroll of Esther [Megillah] eight chapters of a nightmare scenario before we celebrate an unlikely redemption. Around the Passover table, the jubilant songs of the seder come only after pages of pages of oppression and plagues in the Haggadah.

In our quest for joy, we don’t avoid the hard-ships of life, we steer them, we sail them towards a promised land. We suffer loss and grief because we love with fervor. The extent of the grief parallels the extent of our love. And, the depth of our sadness elevates our eventual joy.

So, we tell the story of our ancestors (Israelite and American) and honestly confront the scars and sins of our past, not to ferment guilt or diminish our sense of pride. We remember and allow ourselves to feel the pain of a legacy of enslavement, oppression, and genocide because this is how we cultivate compassion and inspire acts of lovingkindness. Welcome the stranger because you were strangers in Egypt. And the stories of sadness and grief that we share as part of our holiday rituals are integral to and in service of our journey to joy.

Ivdu et hashem b’simchah. And so, we feast. And when our plates and wine glasses empty and our bellies and hearts fill, prior to offering a blessing following the meal [bircat hamazon], it is customary to chant Psalm 126, a ‘song of ascents:’

It’s like a dream – our mouths filled with laughter our tongues with song…we will rejoice. Those who sow with tears will reap with joy…

Explore the tears, journey through the sadness. You will return with bundles of gladness and joy.

And so may it be. And so it is.

Chag Purim Sameach – Happy Purim!

Chag Kasher v’Sameach – Happy Passover!

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain, Tarot

Changes

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Imbolc and the Moon of Seoah’s Naturalization

Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley waste. Vince and his laborer. Moving day. Kristine Gonzalez. Kep, my buddy. Rigel, consciousness shifted. Kate. Always Kate. The Ukraine. Russia. Biden. Democrats. He who shall not be named, but will be put in jail. I hope. Sun. Solar power. Snow coming. Warmish weather. Projects. Phases.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Young muscle

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, Eel.

 

And so the day comes round at last. The shifting of furniture, the changing of the house from its care for Kate days to its Hermitage days. I keep hearing in the back of my head, “You’re erasing me.” You said this when I first began to move things in the kitchen to better reflect how I cooked.

Kate, I’m not erasing you. You will be present throughout the house and the loft. In the common room a wall dedicated  to art that you loved. Including Jerry’s big landscape. The bronze statuary. An arts and crafts clock with a turtle tile. In the bedroom the Bailey Patchworker’s quilt remains on the bed. Your sewing room will become a family gathering/celebration space. In the loft your ashes will sit behind my computer, so you’ll be with me while I work. I’m thinking about stenciled Irises in the kitchen. I can see the expanded Iris garden from the loft window. And, the lilac bushes await spring for their second year of growth.

More. Our anniversary comes next week. I’m going to celebrate. Not sure yet, but it will be you and me somehow. Also, the April Big Celebration will include plenty of time for your yahrzeit. No, you are gone as a body, but not as a memory or a presence. Your love, your intelligence, your knowledge, your passion lives on in those of us who loved you and all the patients and their parents you served over many years. Your friends at CBE and Kate’s girls, the Bailey Patchworkers, and the Needleworkers. Each one carries a piece of you in their heart.

But, yes, I am changing things to meet the new life that has emerged after your death and Rigel’s. More conversation around the fireplace. More family and friend meals. Holiday celebrations in your old sewing room. A more Arts and Crafts lower level, a better appointed guest room.

Hey, guess what? You know that thing we couldn’t figure out on the stairway upstairs from the lower level? It’s for cd’s. It held all of the cd’s!

Your life and mine. Intertwined. Now and forever until the end of the universe. No erasing possible.

Vince D’Orio and his brother Preston have come to move everything. Nice guys. Vince replaced John who replaced Ted, all since you died. Vince is the best of the three. He’s young, energetic, personable, friendly, and eager. His brother the same.

Do you think it means something that his brother Preston showed up with a Woolly Mammoth on his hat? Vince’s family came to Long Island from Sicily, then moved to Albuquerque. Now the D’Orio boys are both in Colorado. Vince lives on Warhawk. Preston in Henderson.

Now they’re moving stuff around in our house here on Shadow Mountain. Oh, yeah. And then there’s the house. Which you found. Which you chose because of it’s loft space for me and my library. My eyrie, you wanted to call it. It’s that, too.

You live in my heart and in my memory as a blessing.

 

 

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Our Land and Home, Shadow Mountain

Sweet honey to the rock of my sadness

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Monday gratefuls: Vince and his laborer coming Wednesday to move furniture. Unloading the Stickley bookcase and the leather bench. And, the cd cabinet and the Stickley table. Herme goes upstairs. Jon’s work now in three print shows. His idea to take the bookcase downstairs. Ruth’s gentler habitus. Kep’s calm. 32nd anniversary next week. Kate, always Kate.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kate

Tarot: Six of Stones, Exploitation

 

The Common Room

Getting ready for the big switch. Vince and his laborer come on Wednesday to move furniture around. The stationary bike will go to the loft, where I’ll use it for HIIT workouts. The cd cabinet (remember cd’s?) will go where it used to sit in the downstairs home office. The Stickley bookcase will go to my level downstairs, against the wall under the mini-split. The leather chair from Pottery Barn will go upstairs to the common room. The leather bench will come up to the loft, too. The teak dresser in my bedroom and the tv on it will go into the guest room, aka, Seoah’s room. The Stickley table will go up into Kate’s sewing room, creating a new dining room for larger meals.

The end result will be a comfortable conversation area in front of the fireplace, a Stickley themed space on my level, a place for guests to unpack and put their clothes away plus a tv if they want, a sorta formal dining area, and a place to take off boots in the loft and a stationary bike well suited to high intensity workouts. This will end the second phase of my plan. The first phase was the kitchen remodel. Which is almost, almost done.

The third phase will see the arts and crafts chandelier hung and Herme finally moved to his place on the wall. This phase requires an electrician. At that point I’ll declare a pause until spring when I have some landscaping/yard cleanup work that I hope Vince can accomplish. There’s another level of organization that the loft requires, too. I’ll be getting on that as soon as all this calms down. Mostly filing that needs doing as a result of my taking over the financial responsibilities.

My conceit is that Kate would have loved all this, but truthfully, I’m not sure. A lot of money splashed around, a lot of disruption. As she might have said, “I’m feeling penurious.” I know I’ll love all of it.

One unexpected but oh so good part of all this was my discovery of a notebook containing a page from January 2021, four months before Kate’s death. She had started a gratitude journal. Early in the month one entry read, “Charlie’s wonderful care.” A second, later in the month, “Charlie, always.” Sweet honey to the rock of my sadness.

Time for breakfast now and then more prep work for Wednesday’s moving day, a workout after. Gotta go. On the flip side.

 

Anoka County, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Great Wheel, Health, Judaism, Kabbalah, Memories, Minnesota, Mountains, Mussar, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Shadow Mountain, Weather +Climate

Charlie’s Difficult, Wonderful Week

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

At the VRCC, Jan. 2018

Thursday gratefuls: Rigel. Her death. Kep. That hole in my heart. Tom. Here. Cannabis. Leah. Marilyn and Irv. Susan Marcus and Thoreau. Rich Levine. Dr. Palmini. VRCC. The new kitchen. The new furniture and lamp. Snow. A good bit. Stopped early morning. Plowed Black Mountain Drive. Bright Sun. Robin Egg’s Sky. White Lodgepoles and a white Black Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rigel’s death. And, her life.

 

My life flows on in endless song,
above earth’s lamentation.
I catch the sweet, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.    The Hymnary

Yes, it’s surprising, but this is how I feel. Eager for the new creation while sad about Rigel, about Kate, about the life that included them in the body. No, I’m not moving out of the present moment. I anticipate nothing. I regret nothing. I yearn for nothing.

Part of this equilibrium I have Tom Crane to thank for. He came here, to Shadow Mountain. And cousin Diane Keaton, my best person when Kate and I married. I speak with her once a week. Part of it has to do with the Great Wheel which has turned for Kate and Rigel and will one day turn for me. Part of it has do with the loving and loved members of Congregation Beth Evergreen and the Ancient Brothers. They hold me in a fine net of their care, mystic cords of love.

And, of course, part of it lies within me. One now turned toward the earth rather the heavens of the old three story universe. One reading the torah of mother nature, listening to midrash about her. Her oral torah loosed in the songs of birds, the bugling of the elk, the silence of snow falling.

Leaving now for breakfast with Tom. More in a while.

Kate, Nov. 29th, 2019

No, the deep sorrow has not left me. If someone says something kind about Kate or the conversation turns to death and dying, sometimes tears will press up, coming from a holy well of honor for her, for us. This will, I imagine, lessen over time. It did with my mother. It has with each of the dogs. Vega’s death took the longest to assimilate because she died suddenly and after we had been gone for four weeks.

Tom’s willingness to be here and his actual presence has, as my Jewish friends say of the deceased, been for a blessing. We know each other. Pain. Flaws. Joys. Anguish. Inner compasses aligned.

Kep and I have begun to negotiate life after Rigel. Just us boys. He comes up to the loft, but he’s not eager to stay. He likes to roam. Gertie would lie down on her bed, from time to time gaze up at me, and leave with reluctance.

Tom, Durango, Co.

Today is body-mind-spirit day. Breakfast with Tom. Therapy with David Sanders. Annual physical with Kristine Gonzalez. New workout with personal trainer, Deb Brown.

Did not finish this yesterday. So, I’ll just go on from here.

David Sanders called me an exceptionally intelligent person. Nice to hear. In these tough days a few compliments help. He also noted my breadth of knowledge. OK. Enough back patting. He convinced me to send him some of my work. I sent him the first fifty pages of Superior Wolf. And, I admitted that I probably had a book in me about the Great Wheel, tactile spirituality, the ur-religion. Feels like he moved the meter in my head back toward creative work.

Saw Kristine Gonzalez, my new primary care provider. What a delight! She loves taking care of folks over 65, listened to me, discussed my health with me like an adult. To my Bill Schmidt inspired question about what I needed to do to love (meant live, but this works, too) until I’m 90, she said, “Just do it. Your prostate cancer is under control. You should be able to.” A big sigh of relief to be in a smaller medical practice and with a competent, caring doc. I told her Kate would have liked her a lot.

Dave and Deb, owners of On the Move Fitness

Then, over to On the Move Fitness for a kick start to my workout routines which I’d let slide. Deb is the person who lost her husband David to glioblastoma in June of 2020 as the Covid pandemic began to wrap its coils around our lives. Dave and I bonded over cancer recurrences and now Deb and I have over grief. She gently guided me back to a new routine. Slowly, slowly.

By the time I got home I was exhausted. Called Tom and said so. He graciously agreed to let me rest. He’s coming here for breakfast before his board meeting, then we’ll probably head over to the Happy Camper. Might go to Scooter’s for lunch.

One of the upsides of all the angst this last year has been an immersion in love. Folks from all parts of my life from high school to college, family to friends, Minnesota to Colorado, Evergreen to Conifer, Judaism to Christianity have reached out, offered or given me support. It’s had the result I’ve needed. I’m not alone. I’m both needed and accepted as I am. Good to know at 75.

 

 

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

This Will Pass

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

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

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Salmon a la Ode

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Shadow Mountain

The Hermitage Common Room

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Imbolc and The Moon of 3/4’s

Friday gratefuls: David Sanders. You’re the most articulate person I’ve ever met. Another person the night before, someone I admire: you’re the man I want to become. Geez. Yet. Nice, too. Therapy. Again. For me. For Ruth. Therapy Nation. Languishing. Mourning. Grieving. Bright Sun. Blue Sky. Black Mountain. Wireless mouse and keyboard. Wow.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth and Seoah

 

Living. As far as I know, it beats dying.

Noticed my ax sitting near the window. Behind it is a painting, a Renaissance replica, in the shape of a cross. Jesus crucified. Above them hangs the red dragon on a green and white background, the flag of Wales. All the way on the bookshelf’s top is a human skull, an anatomy lesson tool. Up there, too, is a seven candle menorah, a replica of the Temple Menorah from the First Temple.

The ax I can no longer wield. Too weak. Poor stamina. The painting I love as art and appreciate as metaphor. The flag is a roots thing. Captain Ellis from Denbigh,Wales. Our Welsh forefather. Though. None of my genetic work has teased out any Welsh blood. The skull. Not the only one. A beaver, a black bear, a Sabre tooth tiger (faux, but still cool). What lies beneath.

Ruth returned home. Spent the last two days with me. She looks much better, less stressed. Medication changes. More knowledge about how to self regulate. A volunteer turn on her part which suggests a much higher likelihood of benefit. She was nervous about going back to school today. As she often says, Makes sense.

Took her, Gabe, and Jon to Katsu Ramen. Was gonna be Domo, Ruth’s favorite, but it’s closed due to omicron. This was her 15th birthday meal. From last year. I took Gabe to his favorite, Benihana, last month. This little family. Sweet and, it seems, taking steps to heal from years of trauma physical and trauma emotional.

A good time together then I drove back home, all the way across the Denver metro and up the hill to Shadow Mountain.

Rigel

Rigel. Not eating. Won’t let me give me her pills. I called a different vet, a local home call vet who does acupuncture, other things. We’ll see if she can help. Rigel also occasionally retches, like there’s something stuck in her throat. I don’t know what’s going on. She’s gone to the door to the Otherworld many times and always turned around and walked back. I’m neither hopeful nor despairing. Today, she’s alive. I’ll do what I can today.

Had my first therapy appointment in many years yesterday. Dr. David Sanders, who founded the Kabbalah Experience and teaches the class on the Sefer Yetzirah that I’m taking right now. We met on zoom. Which I preferred to going in, wearing masks. Trying to hear.

Some tears. Talking about Kate. About our life together, our love, our commitment to each other’s growth. Focusing on life after Kate. As David asked, “What does this 74 year old man have left to do with his life?” Exactly.

I’m paying the bill myself. No insurance. Because I want to. May be weird, but it makes me feel good. And I can. Feels more like its mine, not mine and the damned Advantage Care. No pleading for help. Getting it.

The Common Room

All boxes of kitchen stuff off the common room floor. Ruth won the contest. Common Room. A good one. The Common Room is a spot where we can gather, enjoy a fire in the fireplace, have a meal. Be together. Congratulations to Ruth!

Feeling on the cusp of change. But, I’ve felt that way for a while. Even so. A sort of forward leaning, yet in the moment  feeling.

May sit in my new rocker a while today. Read. Maybe even light a fire. I want to read even more and I hope this new furniture arrangement in the Common Room will encourage that for me.

Enough for today. See you on the flip side.

 

 

 

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

Award Winning Pet Grooming. Happy Camper. Shaggy Sheep.

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

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

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

Tarot: Nine of Bows, Respect.

 

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

Rescheduled my appointment with Deb Brown for Zoom.

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of positives right now. May they continue.

Abraham Lincoln died. Rich made a digital picture file.

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

 

 

 

Coronavirus, Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Mountains, Politics, Shadow Mountain, Tarot, Weather +Climate

A Master Class. Kitchen. Erleada. Ruth.

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Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Today -4 6:45 am

Thursday gratefuls: That below zero crunch in the Snow. Minnesota. Abraham Lincoln. Rich. Judy. Marilyn. Tom. Irv. Fresh Snow beauty on Black Mountain. On the Lodgepoles. On the Hermitage. Master Class in Black History. Back to reading. Loading coffee cups in the new shelving. Figuring out how to use the Speed Brew Bunn. (for high altitude)

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Money

Tarot: The Hooded Man, #9 of the Major Arcana

 

Loaded coffee cups into the pantry cabinets, smaller than the old ones, but probably better this way. While feeding the dogs. I’m getting underway. More this morning.

Vince came to plow the driveway. He has a six wheel ATV. An odd-looking thing. But powerful. He did a great job, including eliminating the small ridge of snow in front of the front door that both Josh and Ted left. I think Vince is a find. He also does landscaping.

Connected with Ruth yesterday. She’s in the Denver Springs psych hospital. Voluntarily. She sounded good. Joking, asking me to give Rigel and Kep a hug for her. She wants, really wants, to get her psyche calmed down. I hope she’s able to do that. I love her so much and it makes me hurt to see her in trouble.

The ? Room

Decided I’ll schedule the Modern Bungalow delivery for my birthday. A way to celebrate with a major change in the front room. I don’t know what to call that room. Great room sounds pretentious. Living room doesn’t feel right. It has a breakfast nook and a fire place. The area around the fire place is a separate space. I don’t know. Any ideas out there?

a repeat. but apt.

Been watching a Master Class in Black History on Amazon Prime. It’s excellent. I got to know Cornel West a bit at the 1974 Liberation Theology Conference in Detroit. I also met Angela Davis when I worked on the West Bank. There were a few members of the communist party who lived on the West Bank and were active in neighborhood politics. I can’t remember the couples name right now, but they held a do for Angela and invited me. This would have been in the mid-1980’s. Very much worth watching.

BTW: I agree with everything I’ve heard so far on the program. Knew some, but also learned a lot.

Felt a sag in my excitement about the new kitchen as I start to reorganize it. Realized it was the midday blues. Gonna get back to exercising, starting today. Better energy when I work out. Was gonna go to On the Move Fitness, but wrote Deb a note and said, “I’ve got the Omicron jitters. Let’s schedule a zoom session.” Probably over cautious. But. I’m not now, nor have I been sick for the last two years. In less you count prostate cancer, of course.

The Erleada, which I’ve been taking for 6 days now, did drop my energy level at first but that seems to have waned. Also a few hot flashes. Not bad. Not good. Oddly, just as I typed Erleada, the phone rang. McKesson Biologic Pharmacy. They’re the folks that handle my Orgovyx script, too. Kind and competent. My favorite combination.

And, ta dah! $10 a month rather than $3,000 or $650.

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