Mountains and Islands

I was taken by an interview with Nora Ephron this morning on NPR. She told of a dear friend with whom she often played the game, "Last meal." It's not so much a game as a conversation, where you share you're favorite foods, those you'd request on death row the night before your execution. She noted that the last time they played, her friend was dying of throat cancer and could not have eaten her favorite meal even if she'd wanted to. Ephron's advice: whatever your last meal is, eat it. Everyday if you can. Whatever it is you want to do, do it now. My friend Gail and I do something similar, discussing our bucket lists. She recently took her 80-year-old mother zip-lining. That's the gist of this rambling thought bubble. The Ephron interview has lingered with me all day. I mentioned it to a friend and co-worker, a woman who would love to escape the pressure of her day-to-day, retire and motor-coach the country, but "can't." "If on...

Pay attention when you're chopping vegetables, and never grow too confident of your knife skills. I didn't even feel it at first. The tip of my left index finger, a little chunk, was inadvertently included in the pile of diced peppers and onions on the cutting board this morning, scraped into the saute pan in preparation of a killer breakfast burrito. A few minutes later, it started to bleed. And hurt. Wounded, I called my rainforest-bound husband to whine a little. He told me the belt on the drier drum had slipped off again. In the process of taking the contraption apart to get into the guts of the machine and fix it, he lifted the top panel. Somehow, he thought there was a notch or catch or latch or something that holds it up. There isn't. The heavy, sharp-edged slab o' metal slammed down onto the back of his knuckles. Ouch! My culinary mishap seemed suddenly miniscule. My finger was, and is fine. Life is so often a matter of perspective. Day one at the bank went ...

Yes, I know. I've been remiss with the blog. Shoveling sawdust and vole poop will do that to a writer. It's been nearly two weeks since my arrival in Gunnison and I should be ready to go home. Instead, I don't want to leave. The house is clean, or clean enough. It meets our standards, anyway, which have plummeted in recent years to about the level of limbo bars for cockroaches. The plumbing works now -- mostly. The grass looks like a bad haircut. But it's still a way cool house, in a groovy town, and I want to stay. My friend Brian said it best in quoting the theme from Cheers on my Facebook page recently: "You wanna go where everybody knows your name." Lots of people know me here, and I know lots of people, and we've been genuinely glad to see each other these past days, in coffee shops, at their houses for dinner, on the sidewalk, at the market or the hardware store. Everywhere I go. Everywhere. And the people I've encountered who I don't know?...

You wanna be where you can see, troubles are all the same, You wanna go where everybody knows your name.    (Theme from Cheers) I was driving through the mountains today, gawking at the 14ers along highway 285, feeling fine, soaking in the scenery, pondering how I might figure a way back to this place.  The radio faded, so I hit 'seek.'  The numbers fluttered, then landed on the first notes of Man in the Mirror .  I started snapping my fingers, singing along.   Gonna make a change, for once in my life... I got to ... It's gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference ... and burst into tears.  Shit! Did I mention that I had a lovely dinner with the Cress family at my/their house?  A steak as big as a tractor tire, but much tastier.  Of course, I've never eaten a tire, so I'm just assuming... On Tuesday afternoon, Dr. Gloria Beim delivered the stellar news: I have no arthritis in my hip.  None.  Nada.  Zippola.  Did I mention this already?  I ran out of ginko a while...

Greetings from Colorado, the forest green Subaru capital of the world. I'm here, rattling around in my cabin with only a small table, two chairs and a futon mattress for furniture. Still, it's good to be back in my old stomping grounds. The spring wind is trying hard to suck the rain forest moisture from my every pore. Too late. California already did that. It's been good to spend time with my BFFs in CA. They've all been great support. The weather's actually borderline balmy here in Gunnison . It was a brutal winter for folks here. I think I'm glad I missed that, although I guess the powder on the mountain was epic. Now that the snow is melting and the mercury is rising, people act a little like they've just been let out of prison after a long sentence. The cabin is a little worse for the wear. The snow bent the iron railing that frames the front porch and the north fence is sagging in the moisture laden pasture. Otherwise, it's all good. ...