Ooze and Odds

Funk-B-Gone

Today was the first day of warm weather---on a weekend---that we've had since winter arrived. I, along with many of my fellow Prescottonians, decided to take advantage of the break and get the heck outside. It was the perfect prescription for the funk that has been dragging me down the past couple of weeks or so.

I'm currently living less than half a mile from my office, so the fact that I had to put in a couple of hours of work this morning didn't even phase me. I walked to work, and this is the view that I got to enjoy on the way:

When I finished my work, I decided to take a little stroll downtown to see what I could see. One thing I love about living here is that you can be walking in a neighborhood in the middle of town, and suddenly you can spy a trail that will take you off road:

This was a new trail for me, and it led to a creek running through town, and lots of happy birds in the trees. You'd think spring was on its way or something.

As I expected, there were tons of people (and dogs) downtown, even though there was no specific event going on. People were just happy to be outside. The courthouse lawn is a great public gathering place. I got a little treat from a homemade candy shop, parked myself on the steps of the courthouse, and just did some people watching. (Ok, I realize there are hardly any people in this particular shot, but trust me, they were just waiting in the wings. In the meantime, note the cool art deco details on the lamp posts!)

I'm not sure what was so fascinating up in this tree, but I got a kick out of watching these folks bend backwards to try to get a good look.

Before heading home, I stopped in my favorite independent bookstore, immediately found a book that fascinated me, bought it, and actually started reading while walking back home. Nerds of the world, unite!

On the way home, I passed the community gardens that I didn't know existed before today.

I got home and sat in my back yard for a while with my binoculars, watching the birds that visit my feeder, soaking in the last rays of sunshine, and being thankful for a day of healing. And there is still one more whole day left in the weekend!

Steal this idea, please

In my sleep last night, my brain came up with an idea for a coffee/soup/sandwich shop.

It would be called:

Du Jour, With Love

Today comes to you with love. Enjoy it.

Contemplation

This is Jasmine. I could look at this picture every day for the rest of my life and smile. I had the pleasure of meeting this little dog recently, and she just exudes love. It cheers me up to see this face.

I feel a little overwhelmed by life right now, to tell you the truth. Not one thing in particular, not all bad, not all good, just a lot. A lot of big. I feel like I need to just be quiet, let the dust settle, and let my head and heart reconnect with each other. It might take a little while.

I'll be back. In the meantime, I'm aspiring to approach life like Jasmine does, expecting and giving nothing but love.

National Trail Trek 2013

I had a spectacular hiking experience yesterday, and I want to write about it because typing is the only activity that doesn't hurt today! Yesterday was the 17th annual National Trail Trek, sponsored by the City of Phoenix. The National Trail is a 15.5 mile long trail that goes from one end of South Mountain to the other, across a 17,000 acre park system. This city park is one of the largest in the country, and one of the great things about Phoenix is that there are still large areas of desert wilderness that are preserved from city encroachment. Once a year, the city sponsors this event, and hikers who sign up are transported to one end of the trail, fed lunch at the halfway point, and have a chance to win raffle prizes at the end. 

This was the second time I have done this event. The first time was 4 years ago, which now seems like about 10 lifetimes ago. That day, the weather was typical Phoenix sunshine, warm even in January, and of course I got a sunburn. Yesterday, we got a treat: rain in the desert. Not just a flash storm, but a nice solid steady rain that started on Friday and lasted all day Saturday. Rain like this is a real rarity in Phoenix, and people really have no idea how to respond to it, but I find that in general it makes people very cheerful. It is like a little celebration of a gift that is bestowed by the weather gods.

Still, I wasn't convinced that the rain would really hold all day, so I optimistically applied sunscreen very early in the morning when it was still dark. I needn't have bothered---I never saw the sun. Within the first hour of the hike, I was getting an object lesson in the difference between water-resistant and water-proof. I was soaked to the bone through my water resistant jacket and layered clothing. Fortunately, I had worn underwear that were more like shorts than like a thong, because my hiking shorts became transparent when soaked! Every step was like a heartbeat that squeezed a little water out of my socks and then soaked up a little more with the next step.

But it was exhilerating to hike in the rain in the desert. There was a sense that every cactus, every plant was just wide open, soaking in all the water it could in anticipation of the next 10 months of excruciating heat. When you're hiking with that kind of receptive energy surrounding you, it's hard not to let your mind also become open and to drink in refreshment for your spirit. Plus, you tend to hike a little faster, just to keep warm!

An important lesson I learned is that toilet paper does not respond well to moisture in places where it is not designed to deal with moisture! At certain points on the trail they had port-a-potties set up in case the contents of your body decided they didn't want to hike with you any further. You go into one of these containers and peel your clothes down with water dripping off your sleeves. At the appropriate time you reach under the toilet paper's little guard house to get what you need, but when you touch a roll, it becomes like cotton candy on your fingers. You can try to claw into a roll and tear some off like a piece of bread, but then you have little wisps floating through the air and adhering to your legs, your jacket, and the walls of the container, leaving the next occupant to wonder what the hell you did in there.

A lot of the intrepid hikers decided to quit at the halfway point, but they missed the most beautiful parts of the trail, in my opinion. The trail continues to climb up and up until you are walking along the spine of the mountain with the land dropping off to each side. On a clear day, this offers spectacular views of north and south, but yesterday I was saying to myself, "That is (probably) a great view of the city," and, "(Most likely) you can see most of the Indian Reservation from here." But in reality, I could not see more than 25 yards in any direction.

At the end of the trail, there was hot coffee and congratulations from the dedicated Rangers who work hard to make this a safe and successful event. Then everyone gets loaded onto vans that take you back around in a 20 minute ride back to the check-in point. Hiking 15.5 miles was challenging, but it was nothing like taking that first step to get off the van after sitting for 20 minutes! And then I drove two more hours back to Prescott, so by the time I exited my vehicle, I looked like a zombie, shuffling and whining. Nothing that a hot bath and some ibuprofen couldn't help, though. And it was totally, totally, totally worth it. 

Breakthrough

A few weeks ago, I adopted a cat. I had actually been thinking about getting a dog, now that I have a fenced yard and an actual house to live in, but a cat requires much less maintenance time, and time is something that I don't have a lot to spare. But I knew I wanted to have an animal to share space with me, just as soon as possible. I need the presence and energy and companionship of another creature in the house with me. It just doesn't feel like home to me without that. I've missed my animals terribly almost every single day since they stopped living with me, (that's a whole other story right there), and I was ready to open my heart again.

And so, Paris came to live with me. She was previously owned by a co-worker's sister, but she needed a new home for reasons that were not her fault. I never thought I'd own a cat named Paris, it just sounded a little too snooty, and so I secretly vowed to change her name to something a little more, I don't know, "sporty", once she moved in. But it turns out that Paris is a perfect name for her, although Miss Snooty Paws, Snooty McSnoot-Snoot and Snooty Snooterson would also be appropriate. The cat is snooty.

She is a pure breed "Rag Doll" cat who is supposedly bred to relax like a doll when you pick her up, but she absolutely hates to be picked up (it is, like, SO undignified) and she lets you know her feelings on this matter by screaming them. The first day she was here, she bit me when I tried to pet her. When I would call her name, she would turn her head to look away, and when I entered a room she would leave the room. It was not the bonding experience I was hoping for.

After about two weeks of a Mutual Ignoring Initiative, I left for about five days on a trip to Baltimore. I had two friends look in on Paris every day, to make sure she had food, water, and cigarettes. My friends texted me several times that Paris missed me, but I didn't believe it, even though I found myself reluctantly missing her aloof companionship.

When I got home, late last night, I heard pitiful kitty cries when my key entered the doorknob. She was all over me when I came in the door, purring and rubbing on my leg in what seemed like joy. When I finally got in bed, she jumped up, walked up beside me and flopped her body down parallel to mine. I fell asleep to happy purring.

And now, she is my constant companion. I'll be typing away on my computer when suddenly I'll have the odd feeling I'm being watched. I glance over beside me to see two blue eyes gazing up at me in what feels like love. Of course, our honeymoon may not last much longer, but it feels like we have both found a little source of healing.

I am resolved

My yearly resolutions don't always start on January 1st. I usually start thinking about things I want to change about my life around October, which is two months before my birthday month. My thinking usually goes like this: "By the time I turn 48, I want to be 10 pounds lighter." And then I do a bunch of calculations of how many weeks it is until my birthday, and how many pounds per week equals a total of 10, and how many calories are burned in a light jog, and how many jogs per week I need to do, and blah blah blah. And usually, October is a pretty physically active month for me because I love being outside when the light is October-ish and the trees are brilliant, and there is a certain feeling in the air. And then November comes and it gets cold, and like a hibernating animal, I start to slow down and spend more time staring out the window instead of walking out the door. And I arrive at age 48 carrying the same weight I had with me in October.

This year, around the first of December, a conversation started among two of my close friends and I about how many good reasons there are to stop drinking, at least for a while. Weight loss would be one of them, the financial benefits of not spending money on something so impermanent would be another, and self control, and social experimentation of what it would feel like to not drink, even when everyone else is, and many more good and interesting reasons. So we made a pact together, and today is January 5th, and I have not had an alcoholic beverage in five days. The goal is to stretch five days into six months, and then to re-evaluate.

It's really simple, all I have to do is not drink, and yet it feels harder than that at times.

The first major test came yesterday after a particularly stressful work day. After I finished my work, the Texas A&M Aggies were playing in the Cotton Bowl. That is my college team, also my dad's college team, and I definitely wanted to watch the game.  Since I don't own a TV, I went to a sports bar/restaurant to watch the game. I've watched many a sports game in this particular restaurant, and always accompanied by my favorite local brew, so it was a strong trigger. But you know what? I drank lemonade and the Aggies still won big-time!

There will be more tests of my resolve. Gatherings with friends, stressful days, mexican food that begs for a mexican beer for companionship. I'm going to just take one at a time. I want to think about my relationship with alcohol and why I miss it so much after just five days. And I really want to just not drink. How hard could it be, right? I'll let you know.

Filling the well

It's the end of the year, which also coincides with my birthday month, which leads my introspective self to think about what went right (and wrong) in 2012, and what I'd like to bring into the coming year.

The very best habit I developed in 2012 was a pattern of daily writing, thanks to this site. I can honestly say that I have written at least 750 words on most days of 2012, and that really I probably only missed less than 2 weeks worth total over the entire year. What I write there is mostly a brain dump, not anything I even go back and read, but I do feel that it clears out my cluttered mind just a little bit each morning, freeing up the space I need to think during the day. I'd like to take this good habit a step farther and actually learn something about the craft of writing, and so I have signed up for an online writing course that will start in January and run for 5 weeks. It's a start.

One of the things I kind of got separated from in 2012 was my love of the outdoors. I just didn't have enough time to hike as much as I normally do because of school obligations. But I've got an epic Grand Canyon trip with my Prescott hiking group planned for May, so that is motivating me to get outside again and get my legs ready for the "reverse mountain" that is the canyon. I'll try to post a few pictures here as I get out and explore, because the world needs to know how beautiful this part of Arizona is.

Speaking of exploring, I'm also wanting to explore some creative outlets in this next year. I was given some primo art supplies for my birthday last year: some water colors, brushes, fine art paper, and other accessories. They all stayed in a dark box all year long until this past week. I'm eager to just start playing with this medium, learning by experimentation what works on the page. This is a part of my brain that has been dormant for a long long time, and I want to stir it up, wake it up, let it stretch a little.

Now that we know the world didn't end yesterday, it's time to get on with the fullness of life. I wish you each some time of quality reflection in the next week, and some visions of the future to go along with your gratitude for what the present moment holds.

The lower forty-eight

Last Saturday was my 48th birthday. I celebrated with people I love and people I work with, many of whom also fall into the category of people I love. I'm still in the process of unpacking and setting up my little nest, and one of the surprises I recently unpacked was a tiny blue, slightly stained, dress that I wore as a toddler. My mom saved it for unknown reasons, but I'm glad she did because now I can say I have something in common with Monica Lewinski. Maybe that is not a good thing. 

I digress, but when you are 48 you can digress a lot more than when you are 28. People give you some slack.

In the few weeks I have bought the following items, mostly off Craigslist:

• A small couch
• A larger couch
• A buffet (just because I like how it looks)
• A drafting table which I plan to start making things on
• A dresser
• A ladel
• A desk

It feels good to be slowly replacing the items that I left behind in my last move. Yes, I discovered (the hard way) that I don't need those things in order to be happy or comfortable, but it's also nice to have something to sit on that is mine.

Tonight something strange happened. I went outside to see if it had started snowing yet (the first snow of the season is scheduled to arrive tonight), and there were two pieces of fresh bread lying on my patio. I do not have any bread in the house, and I'm pretty darn sure the bread was not there yesterday. My yard is fenced, and the patio is actually kind of hard to access. Unless you are a bread-toting ghost, apparently. I'm not sure what to make of it. I still feel safe and comfortable here, but I've left the security light on in the back yard, just in case. At least the invader had some concern about the birds, but I have two full bird feeders in the yard, so he/she needn't have worried.

Fortunately, since I'm 48 and a few days old, I have recently completed my annual life review and once again determined that I'm content and ready to go at any time. I'd prefer that it not be something that scares me right at the end, so lets hope that it was a friendly neighborhood bread depositor and not anything that requires further worry. Or maybe it was a reminder to Wonder. Get it? Wonder? Bread?

On to digress again....

 

Unpacking thoughfully

 

 

Last Friday, two moving guys unloaded all of the mystery boxes that have been in my storage unit for over two years and put them all in the garage of the house that I am now renting. After over a year of existing in one bedroom and bathroom in the home of a good friend who took me under her wing when I moved back to Prescott, I'm now occupying my own (sort of my own, anyway) space. With gratitude for the past and gratitude for this new chapter.

My family was in town this weekend, and bless their hearts, they spent an entire afternoon at my new place, helping me put my bed and other furniture together, unpacking a few boxes, hanging pictures, and even putting up a few Christmas decorations. It was so nice to sleep in my own bed again!

So, I've been unpacking stuff that was packed (with great sadness) from my little home by the sea in Morro Bay and also stuff that was packed (with great anticipation) prior to my move to CA. This stuff has been in storage so long, and obviously has not been needed in so long, that it was tempting to just donate all of it without even opening the boxes. I've been trying to be diligent as I unpack to only take items into the new house that I actually need, or that I love for some irrational reason. It's harder than it sounds, even though I've learned over the past year that I don't need a lot of "stuff".

The picture above was taken tonight as I lit the first of probably many fires in my fireplace. The kind of pitiful stocking is actually from last Christmas when I was working as a RN in our hospice house over the holidays. I was so busy with school at the time that I never even emptied the stocking out! This stocking and its contents fall into the "irrational love" category because they remind me of the year that I've come through. I've carried this little stocking of unknown items for an entire year, and I hope that now that I've arrived at the (almost) end of 2012 that I can appreciate its contents in a fresh way and then, like everything else, let it all go.

 

 

Swimming pros and cons for the middle aged woman

I've re-joined the YMCA since I moved back to Prescott. The Y is only about 2 miles from where I live and practically across the street from where I work, so exercising before or after work is not excusable by "It's too far away." I actually love the Y. It's a small town, so you see people you know there. It's a mellow sort of crowd, no meat market. The meat is mostly over age 40 anyway, and some of it is well over age 70! 

Lately, I've been enjoying swimming laps, especially in the evenings. I consider myself a fairly strong swimmer, thanks to all those lessons as a kid. I find swimming laps to be almost a form of meditation. I get into a rhythm of just paying attention to my breath, thinking about my form, and not much else. I like the solitude of swimming. I like that I don't really see anyone else in their respective lanes, and so I don't worry too much about comparing myself to others, as I seem to do subconsciously in almost every other area of my life.

However, I do NOT like getting dressed in the locker room after I've finished my swim. I didn't grow up playing sports, and so I really don't "get" the whole locker room thing. Often there will be women standing around butt naked (Is it butt naked or buck naked?), and they don't seem to have a care in the world, but this scene is in an entirely different zip code from my comfort zone. 

You are supposed to take a shower before and after you get in the pool. I don't know what happens if you don't follow this rule, but I have been afraid to find out. I shower with my suit on and then I gingerly make my way to my corner of the locker room that I have staked out in advance, hoping to god that there is no one else in my vicinity. I take my bag of clothes out of my locker and get all my items of clothing lined up so that I can jump into them as smoothly as Superman gets into his cape in the phone booth. 

That's how I want it to happen, anyway, but it never does.

I shimmy off the top part of my one-piece suit and grab my sports bra. I shove it over my head and arms, and it becomes a solid roll of snake-like bra that coils just above my boobs and shoulder blades, threatening to cut off my circulation while my arms contort in ways that arms should not have to bend in a desperate attempt to unwrap the bra-roll and pull it down where it is supposed to live. I have come close to dislocating a shoulder in this process. Once my bra is on, I feel tremendous relief and am ready to move on to Stage Two.

Stage Two involves wrangling the rest of my suit over my hips and down my legs to my feet, while simultaneously grabbing my sweat pants and underwear which I have pre-packaged so that I (theoretically) only have to step into one set of clothing. But of course, it does not work that way. My skin and my sweat pants have developed some kind of magical adherant property, much like draping a wet paper towel over a damp potato. I drag my pants up with force, one side at a time, pants fighting me all the way, but my underwear stubbornly stays wrapped around my knees inside the pants. So I have to reach in and wrestle them up inside my pants, and that just does not look right. Someday someone is going to call the police on me, I just know it.

Finally, disheveled, but dressed, I am ready to exit the locker room. Once the pain of this dressing experience is over with, I feel that I can blend in as a normal functioning member of society again. And I actually look forward to the time when I can once again slip into the pool and glide smoothly through the water, leaving my clothes and my worries in my wake.