Leanin' Into the Curves

A traveling Christmas quickly became a stay at home Christmas this year because of a flu bug that seems to have bitten a family member. So a quiet at home Christmas it shall be!

It's 44 degrees outside, at 5:20 A.M., on this Christmas Eve morning in this tiny corner of my Arizona desert home. The humidity is a balmy 99% thanks to a welcome winter rain a few days ago, a rare thing in this "but it's a dry heat" corner of the planet. I sit at our kitchen table, refrigerator humming behind me, ceiling fan above me silently recirculating the heater's warm air. I bask in the peaceful stillness.

The last year and a half has been a time of "staying put" for us, not what we do best but it has served us well. A financial settling in of sorts. My restless Spirit squirms and fidgets through each day, like a 5 year-old in church on a warm sunny day when the minister's voice is drowned out by a "Come Out and PLAY" inner voice. 

This Spring we'll be hitting the RV road again! Yay! 

Whether we want to admit it or not, the time when our bodies and/or minds will not be willing, or able, to meet the demands of an RV adventurer lifestyle is coming and we've decided that a home base that offers a cooler summer climate would better suit us once escaping the heat is no longer an option. With that in mind, along with discovering new places and revisiting old favorites this summer, we'll be exploring where to land next.  

Initially we were going to sell our home this winter and become full-time RVer's once more until we found that next nesting place, but we've pulled back on the reins a bit and shall wait and revisit selling after our summer's exploration. Rushing seldom serves one's purpose well so we shall ease into this next phase of life and see not only what we find, but what comes to us as well. 

Just as our traveling Christmas morphed into a stay at home Christmas, today's intentions may evolve into a completely different kind of end game. Forces beyond our control turn a straight open highway into a maze of wicked switchbacks in a heartbeat, but we buckle up and navigate as best we can with the paths we've been given! 

Personally, I find myself nodding off on those straight open highways. The maze of switchbacks awakens that "lean into the curves" part of Me, where instincts take over and all you can do is open your arms, close your eyes and see where you land. Kind of like the Wizard of Oz's Dorothy. 

Destiny is a fickle thing. Just when you think it's done messin' with you, it turns you around, sticks out its tongue and spits in your face! BUT if you face forward, and keep moving that direction, it may still be spittin' and it may be messy, but it won't distort your vision!

Merry Christmas and keep moving forward in what will likely be a messy 2024. ;-)

I Can't Help But Wonder

 

As the final hours of 2022 flow by, I feel my ancestors around me and I can’t help but wonder why.

Over the last year, a series of events, conversations and fragments of information have found their way into my day-to-day life that keeps leading me back to the topic of ancestors.

When combined, my parent’s lineage makes me a Heinz 57 of cultures, a mutt so to speak. Resulting in the best and worst of many worlds all encased in my own personal unique vessel of tissue, blood and bone.

Recently I read an article that said, and I’m paraphrasing, just the fact we exist proves our ancestors were strong, hardy survivors because they lived through the black plague, influenza, small pox, measles, tuberculosis and countless other illnesses that wiped out a huge percentage of the world’s population.

I exist today because someone I share DNA with survived. For some reason, they endured an event that many others could not. Knowingly, or not, they walked through the valley of the shadow of death and just kept walking.

Because of that, here I am.

Rather daunting isn’t it?

Centuries of a million choices, made by thousands of people, resulted in Me.

The Power of Me, the Power of You, is a gift beyond any earthly measure that deserves some thoughtful reflection on this last day of the year 2022.

And I wonder which of my ancestors had a restless Spirit that lies so deeply within my bones that they speak to me in my dreams? Urging me, always urging me, to explore beyond the next mountain, and sometimes, in the lucky dreams, they even give me wings.

I just can’t help but wonder…….

There's A Hole In My Bucket

First of all, I apologize for the length of this blog. I usually like to keep it short and relatively simple but that just isn't possible this go ‘round. If you so choose to take the time, sit back and relax with your favorite beverage and/or snack and read on.

Legacy

Not something I’ve thought much about.

Until this year.

The realization that Life’s slipping by and my “bucket list” seems to have a hole in it, was one of several reasons my thoughts kept going back to that topic. Rather than randomly rush into a million fragmented actions meant to haphazardly patch my rapidly leaking bucket, I sat back and waited to see what would come. 

That’s where the true adventure would begin …

A “let’s stay home this summer plan” rapidly changed to a “let’s take a work camper job in Yankton, South Dakota plan” after I’d already made “staying home” commitments.  Great….

Again, I reminded myself, “just sit back and wait to see what comes.”

Commitments were renegotiated and we set out for a summer in South Dakota.

Travel went smoothly. Time with family and friends was well spent and enjoyed. Work camper job was going well, new friends were made, our campsite was secluded, the campground was quiet and the paycheck was an added bonus.

Then, legacy opportunities began sprouting up like the crops in the fields surrounding us.

For the first time, in the 9 years we’ve been work campers, we were working shoulder to shoulder with high school and college students, instead of retirees. Whereas retirees will talk your leg off, these young adults didn’t even talk to each other, much less a couple of old folks!  HA!  

So…. we began a simple word exchange process with them. Nothing as scary as, “good morning, how are you?” Simply, “morning.” I figured anything more personal, which would require more than a one syllable response, would initiate a panic attack, or worse,  

Bit by bit, during lunch times and while waiting for the day to end, an inkling of what could be considered the infant stages of a conversation would be attempted. Baby step victories. 

The most interesting was a young man who was a high school senior. We had been warned that he was a “cocky-SOB-bully”, NOBODY enjoyed his company and he was avoided like the plague. Seeing this as a challenge, we both made efforts to speak to him, as an adult, not as a cocky-SOB-bully, and just see where it led. In a few short weeks, he openly began a friendship with Dave, based on Dave’s firefighter career, especially his Hotshot experience, which the young man thought was “bad ass.”

In the midst of all this, Dave applied for a Park Ranger job at the Granite Mountain Hotshots Memorial State Park, which you can see from our back porch, on the side of the Weaver Mountains.  Again I think, “just sit back and wait to see what comes.”

And it came.  The job offer.

Our bailing out of our South Dakota State Parks obligation was graciously accepted by supervisors and co-workers.  On our last day the “Cocky-SOB-bully” respectfully said, “Dave, I won’t forget you," firmly shook our hands, sincerely wished us good luck and was clearly disappointed we were leaving. 

Will this brief interaction with a couple of retirees, in some small way, have a lasting effect on this group of interaction deficient young adults? Time will tell. I hope so.

In the 6 weeks we were in Yankton, I was able to take the short hour-long drive back to my birth home weekly, thanks to my brother and sister-in-law’s loan of a spare car.

Mom & I would have coffee and rolls at a downtown bakery and then go shopping. My 50th class reunion was a catalyst that led to a mini reunion of “us girls” for dinner (supper in Nebraska) drinks and a “sleepover” at a dear classmate’s nearby home, followed by a personal tour of her & her family’s golf course the next morning. It pays to know the right people! (smiling big).  Another day was spent with a very precious girlfriend who let me drag her along to a mini family reunion a few days later. She’s a saint!

I was disappointed that these types of experiences, that I had planned on enjoying until September, were ending prematurely, but again told myself, “just sit back and wait to see what comes.”

And, we came home.

The State Park where Dave will work is basically a parking lot with info, a hotshot memorial monument and a trailhead.  It’s a steep 3.5 mile trail to the location where the 19 Granite Mountain Hotshots perished. We’d not hiked the trail and agreed that before his July 9th job start date, we needed to.  

And we did.

I wasn’t sure I could complete the 7 mile round-trip, 1,200 feet climb.  It’s a bit above my endurance level. Well OK, it’s a LOT above my endurance level, but heck, why not?  The worst that could happen would be I’d make a fool of myself trying.

5 A.M. July 4th we began this physical and emotional journey.  Most of you know, we worked with, and knew, one of the Granite Mountain Hotshots who perished. Anthony Rose. Dave’s past as a Prescott Hot Shot was another connection to this place that’s become hallowed ground.  It’s a profession that you never really leave. You are forever connected to those who came before you and those yet to come. It just is.

It was the picture of a perfect morning with the sun not yet breaking the horizon. Dave soldiered ahead, I climbed slowly, pausing to take pictures and catch my breath as he hiked out of sight.  I felt completely alone on the mountainside, but yet part of everything around me.  

The view was what the ravens and vultures see when they surf the high gusty air currents.  The little town of Congress was spread out and gave the illusion of a much larger place. Our North Ranch neighborhood was a vivid patch of homes plopped in the midst of an open expanse of desert.  With binoculars I may have been able to see our backyard. 

An early morning train literally looked like a snake crawling in a “S” through the flatlands below. A minute later it sounded its horn at a crossing. The lonely sound vibrated through the air like a knife slipping through soft butter. I smiled.  

Between the steep climb, altitude and the “take my breath away” scenery, I stopped often so my lungs could catch up.  

Dave called from the halfway point to check on me.  He said there was a sign marking the halfway point and a covered bench. I told him I’d shoot for the halfway bench and decide if I wanted to continue. 

When I got there I thought, “holy buckets, this is only halfway?!” But after a spell of rest, I got my second wind and moved on.  The trail leveled out a bit and I’m thinking the worst is behind me.  HAHAHA!  (more on that later)

A short time later Dave made it to the end of the trail and sent me a pic of the actual marked memorial site. One glance at the image and I knew I couldn’t stop. No matter how much my body protested, I needed to stand where he stood and pay my respects at the 19 crosses that marked where they had lain as the fire swept over them. The “I’ll stop when I’m exhausted” choice was scratched off my list.

My thigh muscles were screaming. My old hiking boots had begun to pull apart at the front seam. I felt warm blood oozing from a blister I had on my right big toe. Yeah, yeah, I’m a sissy!  Plus, there was always the trek back to the parking lot start point!

It was time for a talk with Self! “It’s only flesh, blood and bone you out-of-shape old woman!”  “Get over it and keep moving!” “Do it for those who can’t walk!” Do it for those who think they can’t!” “Do it for those who think you can’t!” “Prove ‘em wrong!” 

I made it to the “memorial wall” where hikers can leave tokens in honor of the 19 and the actual incident site was in clear view, 400 feet below. My leg muscles seized up and my right big toe blister went into convulsive throbs just thinking about walking back up, but down I went.

There was only one other person there with us as we walked around the circle of Gabion baskets, one for each of the 19, connected by chains that represent their eternal team. Crosses engraved with the individual names are in the center, where each was found.

A sacred place. 

A peaceful place. 

Birds sang, lizards scampered through the rocks, under a brilliant blue sky, a not-yet-hot sun that peeked out between fluffy white summer clouds. 

It was difficult to imagine what the day had looked like on June 30th, 2013 through the smoke and flames and heat as these men deployed their shelters and laid upon the rocky desert ground in front of me.  

How insignificant my sore muscles and bleeding toe were. I felt a fool for even considering turning back, but at the same time completely understood how important it is sometimes to “just sit back and wait to see what comes."

I made it back up that 400’ hill.

I made it the entire 7 miles.

I soaked my feet when I got home. By noon the throbbing was gone.

I gimped around a few hours after we got home. I had muscle twinges for a few days. That discomfort is gone.

The physical price was minimal.

The experience was beyond description.

The knowledge that I’m still stubborn to the point of self-destruction?  

Priceless…

My bucket list just got a new secure patch and it feels good. 

Just sitting back and waiting to see what comes next.

Reaching! Still Reaching!!

 

In 2012 when Dave and I began this RV journey we had no idea how it would mold and shape our lives or the experiences, challenges, triumphs, lessons and people it would lead us to.

I wouldn’t change a thing, not one blessed thing. Not even the bad stuff.

We’ve shared unbelievable vistas. Historical landmarks that range from Arlington National Cemetery to the Montana ghost town of Bannack, spent a shocking amount of money to eat lobster rolls in Bar Harbor, Maine, spent a week with daughter, son-in-law and grandkids in New Hampshire, met up with cousins Dave hadn’t seen in many years, and with their help, discovered high school pictures of his Dad in a year book in the Pontiac, ILL library where his Dad, and his cousins, grew up. 

Absolutely priceless moments in every sense of the phrase.

But, we’ve also fought and hated each other for the half day or so it takes to settle back into a place of reason. Counted pennies to determine how much gas or diesel fuel we can buy to get to a destination and if we need to find a free camping spot or can afford the luxury of a full hook up site for a night or two.

Sacrifice is a huge part of our choice to feed our restless Souls, but Life’s a crap shoot so let’s roll!

Fast forward to today.

South Dakota, a usual pass through destination, after visiting my family and some friends, perhaps cruise through and see some of the Black Hills on our way someplace else. This year, it’s a 4+ month stop and work camper jobs, an unanticipated, completely un-preplanned destination.

Again, trust the timing and the doors that open, doors you didn’t even know existed.

This time around we’re doing the most menial of jobs, cleaning bathrooms, cabins, trash pickup and any other clean-up jobs we’re assigned, which we’ve done before and believe me it’s much easier than working a check-in booth! HA!

For the first time EVER, most of our co-workers are not retirees. They are local high school and college students.  Our supervisor is 22 years-old and began in the custodial crew 6 years ago as a high school student. He’s high energy, very motivated and always ready to listen.

As different as this experience is, it’s an amazing opportunity to work with young people and show ‘em us old folks are still useful and provide an example they can look up to and remember as they move through their lives.

Wow.  Just Wow!

I think, at the time, we both wondered why this particular scenario came knocking on our door.  My nearby family and lifelong friends (and a 50^th class reunion) was initially top of mind, but other deeper purposes are surfacing and I am again amazed at life’s ebb and flow. 

A purpose greater than ourselves is always available if you’re willing to reach for it.

Reaching! Still Reaching!

The Art of Unlearning

 

I’ve struggled for months with a new blog topic. 

There is so much going on, and so much to say, but everyone is saying too much, and in the saying, they become talking heads, with nothing worth listening to.

So what could I possibly say that would be of value?

In the last few weeks I’ve been given the time, and opportunity, to really dwell on a topic.  Subtle little messages were telling me to pay attention, sift through my mind clutter and spew forth some written words. 

After a hot steamy shower, which can cleanse my mind of clutter, if I choose to exercise that skill, a topic rose to the surface, and here we are.

Unlearning…..

Yes, a demon I often ignore and resist.

I’m not talking about relearning or learning more.  I’m talking about a total purge of certain things I was taught was Absolute Truth and likely influenced by my parents, grandparents, teachers, friends, co-workers and any and all whom I gave the power to mold my mind. 

Those I trusted, admired, loved and respected.   

Those with a greater understanding of worldly matters, because their years, or degree, of life experience outnumbered mine and questioning what they, either knowingly or unknowingly, were teaching me, was not allowed. 

I learned, without doubting the validity of it all, and the idea of ever unlearning any of it was considered treason and equal to dancing with the devil himself.  It just isn’t done.

And here we are ….

Times are a-changin’ rapidly and it seems so rapidly that everything is out of control. 

Or is it?

Or is it my resistance to unlearning?

Or is it really a relearning of basic life values that I haven’t had to take out and examine for a few generations?

A land of plenty can create plenty of gluttons, spewing their gospel and handing out food for thought that in reality is empty brain calories that fills minds with bloated, useless information disguised as nourishment. 

I feel as though I’ve been shoved into an endless all-you-can-eat information buffet line, with no real info worth consuming in sight.  It’s sort of like expecting steak and lobster followed by an entire tray of decadent desserts, but only offered tofu and cottage cheese. ICK!

In the meantime, I’m starving, and in the starving, becoming weak and feeling powerless.  So I blame others, who are also starving, as they also struggle with the right and wrong of the worthless info we’re being fed. 

We spit and claw at each other, looking for something worth sinking our teeth into, while the gluttons keep filling our plates with hot air and speculation.  Laughing and patting each other on the back while we starve and continue to relinquish our power.

Why are we behaving this way?

Perhaps we need to unlearn some things.

Perhaps I need to unlearn some things.

1.  I am not always taught by those who truly seek to educate me.  I may question the validity of any and all information I consume.

Seek out QUALITY information from QUALITY sources and consume what all sides have to say.  Choke it down if needed!

2.  I am not information starved. I am overwhelmed with too much useless information.

It’s really not difficult to spot hear-say or second hand information. A social media post with scant content that heavily supports one side is not quality info.  Accept the fact that even “experts” are confused.  Common sense still goes a long way. 

3.  I am not powerless.  I may choose to travel any path I feel serves me without judging those who choose different paths.    

I only feel powerless if I choose to be.  Sometimes maintaining or retaining personal power is lonely.  Do it anyway.

4.  ?????????????

I’m prepared for more questions than answers and that’s OK.  Know when to take a break and just be at peace with not knowing.  

It seems a bit overwhelming but my approach is kind of like cleaning out a purse after years of carrying around the same old crap, like removing the tampon I haven’t needed for 20 years.  OK, too much information, but you get my drift.

To keep our heads above water we have to throw off that which is drowning us.

Old ways of thinking can be very heavy and as worthless as that nasty aforementioned tampon.

Soldier on….

Almost the rest of the story

Now I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin, so to speak.  

I’ve worked many years at balancing work, fun, responsibility and personal growth.  

It’s a tricky path with wicked switchbacks, potholes and “dead end” barriers but also arrow-straight stretches of wide open spaces where I can just breathe deeply and coast.

I thought I had a pretty good sense of my tolerance levels and ability to be flexible when needed.

Oh boy….

Before I begin telling this tale I’d like to make it clear that I’m going to be purposely vague.  After all, there are 2 sides to every story and my side is the only one you’re likely to hear.  

My blog, my side, LOL.

We’ve had 5 previous work camper jobs.  Each carried its own challenges but there were always periods of training, support staff, set days off, clearly defined duties and the tools you needed to do your jobs.

This new summer “job” we’d secured early in 2021 sounded perfect.  Exactly what we’d been looking for.  The only surprise was it was in a state we hadn’t intended to spend the summer in but the job description, and the owners we had our phone interview with, seemed an excellent fit.  “We’re not very organized,” was a phrase used by the owners several times throughout the interview.  Didn’t seem too alarming at the time because I’m flexible, right?  Certainly ready and willing to adapt and overcome a bit of disorganization! 

Oh boy…

Remember, I’ve been self employed since around 2001 and the discipline that comes with that choice is a blessing and a curse.  Work comes before play ALWAYS!  Get ‘er done was my motto long before Larry the Cable Guy came along.  By the way he’s a Nebraskan also.

Leaving a cabin half clean and calling it “quits” for the day just ain’t in my DNA.  Having a 40 foot+ RV come in at 5 P.M. that “someone” forgot to tell me about when I’m the only one on duty, a few days before we’re booked, is not cool.  And oh yeah, that RV in site #10 is staying an extra day, whoops forgot to tell you that too.  

I know you’re itchin’ for more examples because how can such a small place be so bad that I’d turn and high tail it out of there in 6 weeks?  Sorry, that’s all I’m going to share because I truly hope these oversights that make me crazy are resolved, someday.  

It’s a lovely place surrounded by breathtaking beauty.  I wish them luck and success in whatever it is they are trying to accomplish.  Unfortunately for me, what they are trying to accomplish is still a bit of a mystery.

Every demon that messes with my Personal Balance thrives there, mixed messages, mountains of clutter that prevent timely completion of everyday jobs, broken equipment that can’t be fixed because the tools to fix them are also broken and distractions that result from all of the above and well beyond the length of this blog.

Keep in mind, it’s a 60 mile round trip to the nearest town for supplies, laundry service for cabin towels/linens and the like.  No schedule for supply/laundry trips, just when it becomes a crisis.  

Oh boy…

So I struggle with…..

Is it me?  Am I too inflexible?  Why can’t I just be their work horse, do what I’m told and just deal with the stress and anxiety it causes me?  I’m such a big fat old lady sissy and failure!!

Fuck that!  (pardon my french) 

I’m a horrible liar and even a worse pretender so my frustration begins to ooze out and it’s noticeable.  

That my friends is where this story ends.

The rest got kind of nasty and the last few days sank to a new low.  

Partly because my pretending and playing nice completely dissolved.

There’s no witty “now you know the rest of the story” Paul Harvey ending.

Just lessons learned and the “knowing” of what I need to maintain that balance I’ve worked on through the years has sunken deeper into my Spirit than I’d realized.

That is a good thing!  

It tells me that in order to stay comfortable in my own skin, I have to honor the values that created that comfort in the first place.  

Chaos does not become me.  So I shall be coming to Utah, Wyoming and perhaps Montana, Nebraska, Oregon and who knows where!  

Be true to Self because you always have to live there.

“I’m not going to give up on life!” ……. Dora Houfek May 2021

So here’s the deal….

2020 and the beginning of 2021 have been a BITCH, to say the least.  

Whether you believe everything you were told about the “Virus” or believe it’s a complete hoax, it’s definitely been a time when once again lines have been drawn in the sand, fracturing families, friends and stirring up a cesspool of controversies.

So, was it worth it?  The fracturing that is.  

The answer is as personal as the opinions on the “Virus” itself.  

The true killer isn’t the “Virus”, it’s the ripping apart of relationships of those who are still living.  

Personally, I wasn’t afraid of the virus but I didn’t invite it into my home.  I wore a mask where required.  I washed my hands after being out in public places thoroughly as told.  Yada, yada, yada….

But…

We did go to restaurants occasionally when they opened (in our summer Montana home and in Arizona when we returned) and if outside seating was available we took it, if not, we didn’t.  We did not wear masks until seated (what goofiness was that about?)  We did our necessary grocery and household shopping as needed, wearing masks as required (Dave had to be reprimanded occasionally, LOL).  The campground we volunteered in (OK, only Dave worked, I was a lady of leisure) didn’t require masks and the only ones I saw wearing masks were a few folks using the laundry room where others may be present.  We didn’t fret over it.

Returning home to Arizona and our little community that is 99% 70+ years-old, like us, they are cautious, but not terrified of the “Virus”.  I resumed my cleaning jobs and only 1 client who was on oxygen asked me to wear a mask.  

I guess you reach an age where you finally admit you have to die of something and we’d rather it wasn’t this dang virus but these final years, decades, days, are not going to be compromised and dictated by mixed messages, inaccurate numbers and fear based information.  

Neither myself, Dave, or any of my cleaning clients contracted the “Virus”.

Moving on, the vaccines come out and now another choice, to get the shot or not.  

Personally, there was no question in my mind.  Hell, why not?  

Will it kill me?  Eventually maybe.

Will the government secretly implant a chip in me along with the vaccine.  Ultimately maybe.

Will it alter my DNA as rumored?  Perhaps.

OK, I’m not that stupid and reseach the science of the vaccine, which has been in the making for 2 decades.  Of course, beyond my realm of understanding but so are the vehicles I drive and the internet I use daily and the cell phone I use constantly, etc., etc., etc…..

So…

I’ve lived a life well beyond any expectations I ever imagined.

If the government is so f#@*ing interested in me, that they implant a chip in me, be my guest!  You’re in for the ride of your life!

My DNA?  Hell, I’m only one step away from a chimpanzee anyway.  Give me a banana and show me the nearest tree!

If others feel differently, I may not “get it” but I’m also wise enough to know that we each have our own lives, growth experiences, life expectations and priorities and I won’t judge, or do my best not to judge.  

Here’s the kicker.

Yesterday, I’m talking to my 87 year-old Mom (who drives me ape shit crazy but I love her MIGHTY) and she’s telling me how she hasn’t been to the local mall in a year and a half (she lives in an assisted living facility) and she went to the mall last week.  She was apprehensive since it’s been so long since she’s been “out” because of all the “Virus” business, but her words were, “I decided I wasn’t going to give up on life!, so I decided to just go do it!”

Holy Shit!  Such a simple sentence says so much!  YAY MOM!

That’s it in a nutshell!  Walking through  the fear, based on legitimate or false fear, is crucial.  Fear is fear and digging deep into your Soul to challenge it is bravery in its purest form, regardless of its validity.  

I refuse to give up on LIFE!  

Whatever that definition is to YOU is the key.  

For some, it’s sending kids back to school.

For some, it’s going back to the gym, or work, or your favorite coffee shop.

For some, it’s going to the mall.

Whatever path you have chosen to walk this last year and a half, please, please, please Don’t Give Up On Life!  

Your Life!

Because it’s precious and short and important beyond words, because it’s Your Story!

And when we’re only dust and memory, that’s all that remains, Our Story.

My Story is still being written but when that last page, that last sentence is written I want it to say, “I’m Not Giving Up On Life!’

The End…..