Be gone, oh vile virus

I have a cold. I don't like being sick. I've been bragging lately, mostly to myself, that I have not had so much as a sniffle in close to three years. Look at me, the picture of health. Well, all good things come to an end. A bug has infiltrated and I am not happy about it at all. I know exactly where I got it. The woman sitting next to me from Phoenix to Honolulu had some obvious congestion. She was where I was yesterday. I enjoyed chatting with her, actually. She was a marketing executive for the Princeville Resort on Kaua'i. She told me they will be closing for seven months to remodel the place, which is spectacular if a bit over the top with victorian glitze. She said they're going for a more understated form of elegance, reflective of their Hawaii location. That location is probably the best in all the islands. The place could be a total dump and command great prices just for the view. We talked story, then went our separate ways within our limited seating space, napping, reading and watching the in-flight movie. Through it all I heard sniffs and little coughs. The incubation period for a cold is just a couple of days, so it doesn't take a math genius to figure out that she was the one. That's what happens when you've got the window seat. You are at the mercy of the aisle sitter to pass you your beverage. She did so, more than once, along with a few billion of the germs she had been incubating for the past few days. How rude!

So yesterday and today have been a total waste. No gym, no long walks, no jaunts to town. Just vegging, hacking, clogged misery. I hate colds. Ah, but it could be worse. It could be the flu or a sinus infection or shingles or SARS or Ebola or cholera or small pox. OK, I guess I'm being a little melodramatic. But really, it could be worse.
The good news is that it's been raining for the past four days. So I'm not cooped up while the sun is blazing. It's just raining, so there's no real harm is sacking out on the couch to watch old movies or the History Channel.

I received an official, snail mail letter from the University of Alaska yesterday telling me than I have, in fact, been accepted to their program. I was so excited to finally receive it that I fired off a copy of my story - the one that got me in - to the New Yorker to see if they might be interested in publishing it. I know, that's pretty pie-in-the-sky. But the worst they can say is no, which leaves me no worse off than I am now. Nowadays, it's as easy as cut, paste and send, so why the h-e-double toothpicks not?

The photo above is that of my dad's luminaria in Gunnison. they did a great job decorating it with his name. He was in good company with plenty of good people remembered that night and plenty more walking the track to pay tribute to them.
I've also included here for your viewing pleasure a nice scenic shot I took of the Anthracite Range and Carbon Peak looking up the Ohio Creek Valley in Gunnison County, Colorado. This pretty mule posed nicely in the pasture behind the cabin for me, then proceeded to insist that I pet her nose. It's she sweet? And finally, a shot of this famous Colorado landmark: the Coney Island Boardwalk hot dog stand. For decades, it was located in the hamlet of Aspen Park, right on State Highway 285. Then, they lost their lease, the land sold to a bank. People were outraged. Worse, they were heartbroken at the prospect of losing this slice of Americana, tacky as it is. Luckily, owners found a new location, just up the highway a piece. It's not quite so visible as it once was, tucked away against a hillside and requiring a hard left off the highway as you drive south, then crossing a small bridge crossing over the mighty Platte River. Still, folks like me manage to find the place. The dogs there are tasty! I like 'em with the works!
I am now back in the rainforest, glad for the effects of the warm humidity on my upper respiratory system.

This morning, while dozing through The View, a loud whack startled me awake. A cardinal had flown full speed into the window. I looked out the see her on her back, legs twitching. I rushed out. She was still alive, so I grabbed a towel, then picked her up and placed her gently upright on a soft perch. Then I left her alone, hoping beyond hope that she was just badly dazed and that once her head cleared, she would fly away. Actually, I put her in a place where I could keep an eye on her through the window, making sure no kitties got the wrong idea. Sure enough, when I went out to check on her, she looked at me and wiggled a bit, then off she flew. Her flight path was a little crooked, but she made it to the grove of trees across the yard. Yay!

A hui hou. Aloha!