Samain and the waxing Winter Solstice Moon
Friday gratefuls: Tom’s visit. Happy Camper. Cutthroat Cafe. Tradition! Lunch with Marilyn and Irv at Aspen Perks. Bowe and his helper. Lower cabinets in place. Microwave up and plugged in. Sink in but non-functional. Appliances back in place. Stove and frig working. Herme is in the house. It will be a while before he gets hung. Snow. Maybe an inch or so.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship. Ancient brothers.
Tarot: Ten of Vessels, happiness. wildwood
Feeling crummy. Tom flew all the way out here and I couldn’t go to dinner last night with him. Slight nausea, mild headache, and felt like headed toward more and worse. Stayed in, went to bed early. This morning a bit of a stuffy nose, a little off. But not worse. Maybe a stomach thing, a bit of food poisoning? Or, something I got from grandson Gabe?
I’ve not been ill since a round of pneumonia in 2019. Well, except for the persistent cancer and post-polio and… That’s significant when you consider the stress of caring for Kate over just those intervening years. I consider myself a pretty healthy person, bracketing the afore mentioned, of course.
Before I skipped dinner though, Tom and I had a full morning. After Bowe and his helper got here to finish installing the bottom cabinets, Tom came. We decided to go to the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey for a small breakfast since we were meeting Irv and Marilyn at 11:30 at Aspen Perks.
Met a nice former Wisconsin resident who drives to Bailey from Denver to waitress. She had a kind smile and a happy temperament. We ordered off the Senior menu, which, as Tom pointed out, we were over qualified for since it started at age 65. We spoke as long time friends will, of things near and far in time, of journeys and other friends, family. Hopes and dreams. Fears. The food came and went, more coffee.
During the week the Cutthroat is the only breakfast place in Bailey. Locals and tourists alike. On the weekend the Rustic Station has breakfast and its fabulous heavy cream pancakes. But the Happy Campers’ Happy Hour, with 20% off all purchases, is only available during the week. That means I rarely get to the Rustic Station.
Tom and I bought Cheeba Chews Indica and a new Cheeba Chews product, Sweet Dreams. Indica plus cbd and melatonin. Tried it last night and it worked well for me. I needed the sleep, too.
The drive from Conifer to Bailey goes up and down Mountains, through Valleys with Mountains in front and in back, down other Valleys with Mountains filling the view, often covered in mist or clouds far away. As 285 runs past King’s Valley, where Marilyn and Irv live, the Continental Divide comes into view. It’s far away, in South Park, past Fairplay. At this time of year it is often, as it was yesterday, Snow covered.
We had a delightful lunch with Marilyn and Irv. Bringing together the two important friendship groups in my life: The Woolly Mammoths and Congregation Beth Evergreen. We talked about Robert Bly and the men’s movement, the formation of the Woollies, its endurance over time. Multiverses, too. Quantum mechanics. Books. Like the Midnight Library which Irv had listened to.
When Tom and I got back to Shadow Mountain, we opened the back door of Ruby and took Herme out. Downstairs on the Stickley table. I lit him up for Tom. Rigel and Kep looked on wondering what those silly humans are up to now?
I had Tom clip on Roger. Sitting in the passenger seat presents my left ear to the driver, my nonfunctional left ear. With Roger clipped to Tom’s vest I could hear him. When I clip it on somebody now, I joke saying at least this time Roger will go home with someone I know if I forget him. As I did at Gaetano’s.
Sure enough. As Tom pulled out of the driveway, I heard a familiar ping. Roger was getting away! I ran out after Tom, but he didn’t see me. Fortunately, a guy in a pick up saw me and flagged Tom down. Roger came home.
After I got up from my nap, I began to feel off. Just not quite right. Stomach, head. That dissonant sense when the body’s no longer in homeostasis. I held off messaging Tom as long I could, but finally I had to say no. I can’t do it tonight. A shame since he’s here and I see him in person rarely. Still. Illness is no respecter of persons or calendars.
Covid. The first thing that ran through my mind. Nope. No fever. No respiratory involvement. An intestinal critter of some sort, I guess.
Quartzite fabricator comes today. Measuring. Then, a lull in the action while Brian finishes the upper cabinets and the cabinet doors and the quartzite gets cut. It will be close, but I think we’ll make Christmas. I’m excited about reorganizing the kitchen, cooking in it. An ongoing treat.
