The Days Tumble By

The days are tumbling by like cold mountain water over a streambed of river rocks. This Monday morning is only an eddy where I'm pausing for a brief rest.

We had guests for ten days. There were many comings and goings, unhindered by snow and ice, and encouraged by the abundant sunshine. Not too shabby for March.

A brief recap of recent events: My hip is possessed by a demon who rarely sleeps. Chronic pain is exhausting. The vacuum cleaner self-destructed the day before our guests arrived. Then a good thing happened when I found out two of my stories were selected for the library's literary anthology. Had a great time watching and talking to my visiting granddaughters. Then they had to go home to their busy lives and it was kind of sad, but quiet, around here. That afternoon, the water heater self-destructed and partially flooded our cellar. Now a man is banging around in the cellar in order to provide us with hot water while depriving us of our money. I'm thankful the water heater didn't go kablooey until our four family members had flown away.  

I bought two books on creativity without knowing too much about the books except that I like the author. Eric Maisel is a psychologist who specializes in creativity and coaching artists of all sorts. He is a prolific writer. I'd love to attend one of his lectures someday. Reading my new books is something to look forward to.

Instead of rewriting by mess of a novel, I've started a new short story. The new stuff is so much fun to explore but it would be so satisfying to finish the book. Time will tell if I have the discipline to do the real work.

This print appeals to me. There is a very cool owl on the right side. I can feel the power of the horse.

It's a terrible photo, but the best I could do under the circumstances.

My birthday is in August if anyone is feeling generous.

Tenuous Spring

Sometimes it's difficult to talk to family and friends who live on the west coast. They speak of flowering trees, blossoming shrubs, and how spring is bursting forth all over their towns and hillsides. Not so for us in Colorado. When you live at altitude, spring takes its time, sneaking up behind your back. I watch, with some trepidation, as the first flowers open up. Plants were fooled last year. Flowers opened only to be frozen a week later. March is our snowiest month, statistically. This March has been almost balmy in defiance of the records. This makes me a little paranoid about what April will bring since it's also a month with wild hair and crazy eyes.

March Is Lovely

Windy, sunny, and perfect weather to be outdoors. 

Joining the Community

The gloomy morning with odd little snow-showers finally wore itself out. Now the sun is shining and even the wind has died down.

Baby C is asleep and E is eating a string cheese and asking me questions. It amazes me that Baby C can sleep through all the racket that three parakeets can make. They are solar powered little birds. It is a sign of evolution that I can type and answer offbeat questions at the same time. And I'm sleepy. So sleepy. "Why are glasses brown?" she asks. How can I be so sleepy right now, but be wide awake at 3 AM? The only reason I don't go downstairs to read in the predawn hours is because the house is cold at night.

I went to the grocery store tonight but realized I was too tired to deal with the crowd and the chaos. I had no idea so many people shopped at 7:00 at night. I guess it makes sense that people would go after work. I picked up a few essentials and came home.

I found a nice email when I checked my computer. Two of my stories are going to be included in an anthology that's part of the You Belong 2014 Longmont Library Festival. I've never seen one of the previous anthologies so this should be an interesting experience, and maybe I'll meet some local writers.

Flushing Cheeks: Facial

Last week was a trial and a tribulation. My hip started hurting a lot on Sunday, then things went downhill from there. I was desperate enough by Friday to make an appointment with my new doctor. He diagnosed the pain as bursitis and I happily submitted to an injection into my hip. By the evening, the stabbing pains were reduced to a dull roar. I still walk with a ginger step, and can't sleep on my left side, but I'm grateful for the improvement.

I had the injection on Friday then realized, the following morning, that my cheeks (facial) were bright red. I appear to be embarrassed all the time. I looked up the side effects. 40% to 15% (depending on your source of information) of the people who get the corticosteroid injection develop "facial flushing" that lasts up to a few days. Figures.

Houseguests are arriving on Thursday. The head count for children will rise to four. I don't know how it will all work out, but I'm doing a lot of preparation in advance. The overarching goal is to spend time with family. The house can be shoveled out later if need be. I'm supposed to be resting but it's futile.

Paul's Coffee

Good stuff.

Books Next to My Chair

I'm reading Rebecca Solnit's The Faraway Nearby right now. She lives in San Francisco and writes on a variety of topics. Out of her extensive list of publications, I've read Savage Dreams: A Journey into the Landscape Wars of the American West, and A Field Guide to Getting Lost. Her writing soars over my head but I can touch the writing with my fingertips, and so I learn.

The Faraway Nearby is comprised of essays about the telling of stories. She has a way of going all over the map in her books, but ties it all together by the ending. Have faith. The essays cover Solnit's own life, and her mother's Alzheimer's. I love that she says, "Place is a story" because I have a friend who likes to argue with me about whether or not place can be a character. "Place as a story" will drive him to further rhetorical heights.

The other book I'm reading is a memoir titled: Badluck Way written by Bryce Andrews. Andrews, fresh out of Seattle and some travels, gets a job on a ranch of 20,000 acres in Montana. The Sun Ranch is worth looking up for its modern environmental approach to ranching. However, note that the Sun Ranch has been sold, so maybe it couldn't exist with the area's abundant wildlife and still pay the bills. Montana is a place full of extremes and should make for a great story. I'm sure the young man telling the tale will go through some major changes as he matures. It's a more enjoyable read since I love this kind of story, and love anything about nature. Very accessible and I'm learning in a different way as I turn the pages.

A Hitch in My Get-Along

Winter is on its way out. I keep hearing about the beautiful spring flowers in California, Oregon, and Washington. Nothing like that is happening here. Yet. Our beautiful blossoms live or die at the whim of the weather. Mother Nature gave us some early warm weather last spring, then murdered all of the plants that had the audacity to defy the calendar. We don't plant a thing in Colorado, except winter wheat, until after Mother's Day.

Spring will grace us with its presence on March 20th even if it will only be a date on the calendar. Just a week away. It's surprising how much this cheers me up, knowing that it will be the spring equinox.

I'm hobbling around like Grandpa Amos McCoy (Walter Brennan) as I walk around with a hitch in my get-along. I'm not wearing overalls though,  nor am I dispensing folksy television wisdom. I tried to help carry a heavy dresser upstairs and had a little pain afterwards. Sadly, my hip hurt a little more each day until I went to IKEA with a friend and walked on those hard floors for two hours. I've been experiencing some pretty bad pain since last weekend. I have self-diagnosed myself as having bursitis, or maybe arthritis but, whatever it is, it's finally better today. (translation: I don't feel like knocking myself out with a hammer) I think I can cover all my diagnostic bases by calling it stupiditis for trying to move that dresser.

The park provides a little bit of outdoor time.

I'd like to see one of these flowers sometime soon.

Fat Tuesday

Yesterday was balmy. A sweet almost-springlike day. A friend fed me Frito Pie and I loved it.

We were able to move back into our bedroom upstairs. It's very yellow now because I am terrible at picking out paint, but it's clean and cheerful.

As I type, it's 46 degrees outside. This is a big change from the winter weekend we just endured, but that's why people in Colorado are so braggy about our weather. The mountains keep our weather interesting. Interesting weather is, unfortunately, becoming a national trend. The east coast has my sympathy for all that they have endured this winter. Someone needs to hit the reset button back there.

I watched the Oscars for the first time. Ellen Degeneres is always a great entertainer.

Fat Tuesday is here. It would be a good day for Frito Pie and a Margarita.

Part of an art exhibit at a coffee place. The 5th grade at The Flagstaff Academy are

studying the Vikings.

Watch Out, Ukraine!

Does the U.N. charter mean nothing? I try to keep my political views tamped down, but I'm getting
fed up with the powers that be.

Winter's Evil Laugh

Another frigid, icy day here in Longmont. We have a lot of sunny days, then a couple of snowy days, so I don't actually have much to complain about. Shoveling is minimal. Roads are drivable for the careful drivers but, as evidenced yesterday by the 104-car pileup in Denver, speed kills.

We are having a mattress delivered on Monday, marking the official return to our freshly painted bedroom upstairs. I liked sleeping downstairs where the train could barely be heard, but we'll have a lot of space and sunshine upstairs.

I have to walk to a neighborhood coffee this morning despite the -3 degrees windchill. I like being one of the young people in the group but I still have a residual cough that just won't give up, so I'm a little wary of exposing the other oldsters.

An editing project has to be written up today because I'm meeting with the author tomorrow. Our two-weeks of illness at home has put me behind schedule with a lot of things, but the book was a lot of fun to read, and I love memoir, so I finished reading it without any trouble.

My father raised his children to believe that chickens could be grinned to death. I have a photo of my father, brother, and myself (about 3 years old) trying to murder an innocent hen while grimacing in her face. I don't know why this anecdote popped into my head just now but the fingers typed it. So it goes.

The weather telling us change is on its way.

Presto Change-O!