Adventure 422: Fracless Day Twelve

Bunny Life is Good.

I drove with a purpose today. We left Las Vegas at 6:30 A.M. and arrived, 695 miles later, in Ontario, Oregon. The weather was warm and dry, the traffic was light or cooperative, and I had my Bunny at my side conducting business. She reactivated our comcast account, made an appointment for George with the Doctor, arranged for our stay in Ontario, and together we brainstormed our next course of action. Meanwhile, Leticia was handling George. He's always done well with bossy women, so Leticia wraps him around her little finger. Get this. Yesterday, she fed him Kale and parsley salad that she made from our garden. Dad said, "I don't eat lettuce." She said, "Great, this is Kale; it's way healthier than lettuce. Awhile later, she said, "George, how about some leg exercises?" He replied, "Can't you see I'm wiggling my toes." So, obviously, his spirits brighten when she's there. She gave him a massage with a lotion potion she made for him. She did his wash, monitored his shower, and scratched his back. Tonight, she said he felt like going out of his room to play bingo with the other Harvard Parkers. Whenever Dad would get his back up at her telling him what to do, TC would say, "Hey, I'm not the boss; I'm just following Vina's orders. I don't think he's quite back to being independent yet, but these are all good signs. If we're granted traveling mercies for another day, we'll be home by early afternoon. We laughed today at the notion of how lucky we were that we hadn't unpacked the truck. We simply took a 3,000 mile joy ride. I wonder what the unlucky folks are doing. At any rate, life is good, especially today.

Boot Camp report: No alcohol; only driving exercise; truck munchies: apples, grapes, cheese, bagels and peanut butter; an excellent Angus burger for dinner. Best of all, we've made a plan for "winter' boot camp when we get home.

 The Irish, who know a little bit about life's struggles, seem to have a solid perspective.

 And the Wiley Cager said, "At least I didn't get skunked."

 Small town eateries are notoriously average, but in Ontario, Oregon they serve home grown, grain fed Angus beef. This burger was excellent; the mushy fries not so much. In the spirit of Boot Camp, we left most of them behind,

Adventure 421: Fracless Day Eleven

A nice day for travel.

I'm noticing a bit of angst in my spirit, a bit of annoyance with other humans such as the woman who stood up (as we prepared to exit the plane) backing herself right into my personal space without so much as a "How do you do?", or the five or six completely inept plump girls at one of the Boise airport coffee stands amusing themselves with talk of work, dates, and job complaints, all the while failing to notice that every pot of coffee on the self-serve stand was empty. No service. No fill. How inviting. Some people would blow their "disgust" fuse all over people like this, and I might too, if it ever made me feel better. But it doesn't, so I just notice my feelings and find other ways to assuage my angst. I'm also noticing that I'm a little more sensitive, a little more inclined to be miffed, and a little sad that the expectations for my immediate future have changed. In my view, that's what I get for assuming. But it's not bad. Life is still very good. I'll have a chance to convalesce with my buddy, Dave; I'll have a chance to spend the winter training with my Tai Chi teacher, a pleasure that I've given up in recent winters, and I'll have the chance to fulfill my sonly duties, which may be full of conflicts, contradictions, and ironies, but nonetheless require my full attention. Speaking of irony or coincidence, I'm currently re-reading one of my all time favorite books, A Prayer for Owen Meany. Among others, these three passages have given me pause.

First, When did you begin to think that events of specific things were important, or that they had special purpose?

Second, The trick to having faith is that we must believe in God without any reassuring evidence, or any evidence at all, that we don't inhabit a godless universe.

Third, There are no coincidences. Owen Meany believed that coincidence was a stupid, shallow refuge sought by stupid, shallow people who were unable to accept the fact that their lives were shaped by a terrifying and awesome design.

Fourth, Doubt is the essence of faith, not its opposite.

So what to think? I guess my position is that we in the human condition simply adjust. I know you might be thinking, "What choice do we have?" While that's true, the answer is we have the choice of response. I chose not to respond to rude behavior; I choose not to be non-plussed by ineptitude, incompetence, intolerance, or any of the other "ins". Instead, I hold fast to this idea: "I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

Thankfully, I'm not one of those people who say when the going gets tough, "I wish I were dead." I want to live and live well. That's my choice. So, regardless of what comes, my position is, and will continue to be, "Life is good, especially today.

Boot Camp report: No alcohol (It's early even for me); idle walking through Boise airport; fried egg sandwich, and a "stress" burrito wrap at the feeble coffee cafe at the Boise airport. It may be time to re-evaluate and re-dedicate my intentions to improve my physical fitness given the fact that bike riding will likely not occur in Spokane until spring. Stay tuned, the human spirit has infinite avenues for excuse, capitulation, and my favorite, rationalization. 

Addendum Day Eleven

We decided we were lucky we didn't have to unpack the truck. I arrived about 1:00 Phoenix time, and I drove with a purpose (Much like my cousin, Douglas, who would be proud.) We arrived at our Hampton Inn in North Vegas a little bit after 6 P.M. We even took time to have a sit down dinner at the very adequate Palacio Mexican Restaurant in Kingman. We got  lucky twice. First, when I thought I WAS my cousin as I squeezed us into the very, very end of a passing lane, and second when a gap opened in the heated traffic of downtown Las Vegas when the GPS said I needed to move over three lanes within a quarter mile. If a guy can't be good, it helps to be lucky. Good night. More road time tomorrow.

 Straight like an arrow back to the cold Northwest.

 Goodbye, desert.

Goodbye, cactus.

Adventure 420: Fracless Day Ten

Ice Cream all gone.

I had a dream recently where I was watching myself from a safe vantage point. So, in this out of body experience my safe self was watching my unsafe self body surfing on a huge wave shaped like a half moon,  a mass of foaming power. I floated on it like a soap bubble. I remember feeling the motion as I was hurled forward toward the beach. I had no control, and no choice but to "go with the flow". Eventually, I was tossed off the wave as easily as a cow's tail whipping a small fly off its back. I tumbled, unhurt, onto the beach. My safe self thought my unsafe self looked like the Wiley Coyote in the midst of another of his outrageous crashes, which of course, he deserved as punishment for trying to harm that sweet little "beep", "beep".. I don't know the meaning of the dream, but it did wake me up, and as I shook myself into consciousness, I physically checked to see if I was all right. I guess I am because here I am riding this current wave of reality. I've heard that some Christians who battle adversity say, "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." So, this morning when I woke up with the sore throat, and when I discovered  that the refrigerator water filter required replacing, and when I discovered that Dad had flushed one of the straps holding his catheter bag down the toilet, I asked,  'Really?" In reality, these small trials are so insignificant, they're ludicrous, and except for the sore throat (which could bloom into a bigger issue), I found it all quite funny. We've had a good morning otherwise. Dad's eaten applesauce, chicken broth, cranberry/orange juice, a small bowl of ice cream, three glasses of water, and two orange slices so far. While not active, he is awake, and his physical appearance is rosy. I don't think he's ready to move into the general population, but I'm going to try and keep him awake for a while, and I'll make an effort to get some chicken noodle soup into him at lunch. In the meantime, I've got gameshows blaring in the background as I type this. Last night, I made the trip out to my friend, Dave Ulmen's house. He's in the beginning stages of cancer treatment, which so far he is tolerating quite well. Meanwhile, he's living the good life. His youngest son and wife and grandson, Gus, spent this weekend at home. His oldest son and wife and granddaughter, Celia , come this week, and next week, his middle son and wife (no progeny yet) come. Nothing makes the ride better that family, especially the grandchildren. I only have three; they're all great. I can only imagine what my former in-laws, Jack and Chotsie O'Brien, felt when they were surrounded by theirs. They had 35, and more if we count marrieds, adoptees, etc.  Regardless of the number, I imagine their joy was much the same. I know that Dave and Liz take joy in theirs. It's likely true for most of us. Which brings me to my observation of the day. Back in the sixties a musician named Cannonball Adderly had a song called "Walk Tall". It was a message to African Americans to stay true to the struggle. He said in part. "There's a lot of funky stuff coming down, a lot of rain and thunder, a lot of cold weather, but none of that matters until the storm begins to get you down." He said, "You must face the storm, you must walk tall right into it, take its full force with pride, and never bend under the raging wind." I like that idea, and I also like the comfort of a safe refuge. Family and friends provide that safe place. So, that then helps make life good, especially today.

Boot Camp report: Three shots of bourbon ingested; very little exercise, except for the first sixty-eight moves of the form; random, mindless food consumed as a pitifully weak stress response.

 Dave with his favorite grandson, Gus.

 One of the more surreal parts of this event comes to my mind when I think I just may be looking into my own future.

 Dad made this little sock snowman. Cute.

 His energy is a bit better, his mind seems clearer, and his dexterity with his pills was good.

Vina is a big help, both in terms of advocacy and in terms of companionship.

 Navy George, circa 1949.

 Dad likes ice cream so much, I think I could get him to eat a whole gallon. I didn't realize that my sweet tooth was hereditary.

Adventure 419: Fracless Day Nine

Hobo Scramble. Hold the Cheese.

It did occur to me that this posting about my Dad may be TMI. It's sensitive, but I've decided the documentation is an effective social media vehicle to keep my siblings informed. Liike all challenging situations: the path is assess, determine, decide. Of course, a person needs help and comfort. Food is comforting. comfort helps, and, in reality, I didn't get this XXX petite body by accident. I eat for all reasons, hunger not even being in the top five. I eat to celebrate, to commiserate,  and to deliberate. I eat idly, often after I've just eaten. I eat randomly, often while I'm fixing something to eat. I eat when I'm nervous, excited, scared, bored and when I'm frustrated. I also eat to enjoy, to celebrate, and to socialize. I eat to indulge. I eat to assuage feelings. I eat for fun. I like to chew. I even eat myself (I'm back to biting my nails). Eating is good. It's comfortable, and obviously, I use it as a stress release. So, it shouldn't surprise anyone that the first thing I did this morning after my usual hot tub soak was to go to Frank's Diner for an early meal. It was good. I also wanted to give Dad time to get up on his own so I could observe what his morning routine was. I'm now sitting in his apartment typing this reflective, partly brainstorming documentation about this current situation. It looks like Dad emptied his own bag this morning. I got him to drink a little juice, a little water, and he took his pills. He hasn't eaten. He's sleeping now. I think the infection and the cold he is getting over have knocked him for a loop. So, before we can proceed with any definitive decision going forward, we have to re-build his "daily living" strength. It's all quite real. At breakfast, I overheard the waitress talking with a couple my age. I gathered the woman's father was in the hospital struggling with some obnoxious infirmity. Curiously, it doesn't provide any solace to know that "my story" while common, isn't unique. They say, "It's Hell to grow old." There seems to be mounting evidence that this is true, but what of that? I've never been much of a "Why me, poor me", person. I'm more of a "What now" person.  I can understand that it's difficult to accept these stages of life as just part of the circle. No matter. My morning horoscope, which I read daily, said this morning: "You might not like sudden changes, but you don't fight it". Eerily, it could be like a song lyric I heard in Boston one year, "That Moses, he was a voodoo sort of guy." Voodoo notwithstanding, the requirements  we face are pretty straight forward. First, help him to regain a normal, or "new normal" daily operating strength. Second, on the next business day schedule his catheter replacement appointments. Third, teach him a solidly clean protocol for emptying his bag. Fourth, begin looking into assisted care facilities as that requirement seems imminent.. I don't have a crystal ball, or God's infinite view, so I don't know when that next stage will come, but come it will. If any of you out there in blog land has any insight, please feel free to give me suggestions. In the meantime, I'm sitting here typing the blog update; the football playoffs are on in the background, and otherwise I'm living the dream because as you all know by now, life is good especially today.

Boot Camp report: fell into the bourbon bottle three times last night; no exercise unless you call agitated pacing, "steps"; ate sushi and cereal for dinner.

 Frank's Diner, a better than average breakfast joint that's run out of an elegantly attired old rail car.

 Ambience is no small part of enjoying a good meal.

The father, resting comfortably.

Adventure 418: Fracless Day Eight

Tranquility at breakfast.

Off we go into the wild unknown. I'm sitting in the Portland airport waiting to connect to Spokane. Dad was re-whisked to Sacred Heart Hospital this morning as a result of his ongoing urinary infection. Thankfully, Leticia is there to give him support.  As for me, the Kral's whisked me to the Tucson airport just in time to catch a flight back home. Such is the life of folks my age charged with the care of their parent. It's unknown at this point whether this will blow up our winter plans, but the possibility isn't unexpected. Judy is in the able care of our friends in Tucson, and I will be able to ascertain Dad's condition when I get to the hospital. It's counter productive, in my view, to suppose anything at this point. Like one of those bands sang somewhat long ago: "Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy." Having admitted that this is a crazy time, it pales in comparison to the challenges other people face. I've always felt that way, and my response to adversity has never been, "Why me?" Rather, it's always been, "What now?" Not in the sense that what will happen next, but rather in terms of what will be the best course of action given this particular set of circumstances. Regardless, I'll still likely feel that I'm the luckiest man on the planet. The flight from Tucson was exquisite. We were on a new plane. There were no shimmies, no shakes, no angst, and no  trouble landing. We even had a magnificent view of Crater Lake, so what's not to like. It reminded me of a bicycle trip we took a few years ago around Mt. Bachelor. Quite amazing how different the perspective is from thousands of feet skyward. Enough of that reverie. The most recent news is that they've installed a permanent catheter in Dad. Leticia entertained him during his stay in the hospital by giving him a manicure and a pedicure and by giving him her unique (and special) brand of irresistible love. I'm sure that calmed him down. They've released him from the hospital, and by the time I get back to Spokane, he will have returned to his home at Harvard Park. I'll spend the next few days arranging for home health nursing to make sure he's taking his medications, and God willing, I'll fly back to Phoenix on Tuesday. I'm not really grasping at that possibility. More than anything, I'll respond to whatever comes, which is in keeping with the notion that life is good, especially today.

 Tranquility in the garden.

 A flurry of activity at the Tucson airport

A calming, awe inspiring view of Crater Lake.

Adventure 417: Fracless Day Seven

Ginny and Judy, Pals.

Long day in the saddle today: 532 miles in a little over eight hours. And every mile was not only worth it, most of it was new. Best of all, the sunlight peeked through the cab window all day long. We watched its rosy fingers climb over the mountains this morning when we left St. George. We enjoyed its glare from the side when we passed through Las Vegas. As we turned across the compass, it followed us like a pet pony, sometimes edging its nose gently as we moved gradually along and sometimes more insistently, making us squint and squirm like faithful evangelists who faithfully hold the straight line even though the way is not clear. And we even enjoyed the sunlight's straight beating heat as we made our way through the stop and go traffic through Phoenix. By the time we were enjoying the back lighting of the near sunset, we were arriving at our friends, the Krals, and then the warmth of the day really began. They welcomed us with widespread open arms, much like the spread of the sunrise over open fields. We had dinner, enjoyed catching up, and even played a card game after dinner. At game's end Judy's eyes became heavy as they do just around eight-thirty. She headed for bed saying, "How can it get any better?" Today's route, a new one, took us South from Las Vegas through Bolder City, over the expanse of the Hoover Dam, and down Highway 93. The desert landscape, though new, is much like every other desert landscape. Judy called it boring, but as soon as I saw my first hillside of Saguaro cactus, I felt refreshed. There's something about that particular life form that speaks to me. Needless to say, I'm glad to be in the desert. We stopped to stretch our legs in Wickenburg, Arizona, which is now known as the "Dude" ranch capital of the West. It's a well done re-creation of an "Old West" town that's famous historically because its chronicled among the battlefields where the expansion of white privilege finally quelled the pride and power of the local Indians. In today's time, it's a tourist town of saddle shops, gun shops, ice-cream parlors, a preserved train station, and little mention of the original inhabitants. Thus refreshed by our Indo-European heritage, we swallowed the irony and pushed on. If I felt any guilt, it wasn't because of that; it's more about leaving my father to fend for his demented self. And even then, I don't feel too much guilt. We talked today. He was playing cards with his girlfriend, Vina. He had eaten, and he sounded comfortable now that he was back in familiar surroundings. I'll send the kids to make sure he's taking his medications, but other than that, I hope he'll make it through the winter. If he makes a serious turn, we'll simply return to Spokane when he needs us. In the meantime, we'll continue to live the blessed life we've been given. It's like Mary Blige said today when she got her star on the Hollywood walk of fame. "God has put my star on Hollywood boulevard, and I'm very grateful." I'm grateful, too, that life is good, especially today.

Boot Camp report: Last chance for alcohol at the Kral's-a little red wine and one beer; a few steps around Wickenburg; excellent, healthy, home grown "vittles" at the Krals (They are exceptional gardeners who bring a car load of food South when they come).

 OK, Dudes, rope 'em.

 The indian uprising was largely caused by the intrusion of the prospectors hunting for gold. The U.S. government came to the rescue of the settlers after several of the Indian chiefs were murdered, which in turn led the Indians to mount a defensive raid. The uprising ended when the government sent the calvary in. These events happened somewhere in the mid 1850s.

 The prospect of instant wealth brought the gold seekers. Progress then brought the railroad. Sheer numbers replaced the Indians.

 And population brought the school marms. 

 Traveling mercies brought us to the Kral home safely.

 Good fortune allowed us to be treated to a David and Ginny Kral dinner.

And, as you can see, my Bunny is all smiles.

Adventure 416: Fracless Day Six

Zen Meditation of the Day

As parents we're usually proud as peacocks of our children, and today we're proud of the whole ostentation. Yesterday and today, Steve and Leticia really stepped up to help Grandpa George who was in full war regalia against the injustices caused by dementia, the medical profession, lack of hearing, and whatever other angst he could drum up. It took both kids to calm him, a very reasonable doctor to understand him, and the miracle of instant communication to resolve his situation. Still, Judy and I were helpless, and we're grateful our competent children stepped up to the challenge. My Dad, George, has a serious stubborn streak and a history of bad experiences with the medical profession. Add to that his advanced dementia, and you have what some would call, a "shit show". The good news is that Dr. Huang agreed with me over the phone that the best course of action was to get Dad back to his normal surroundings.  All is good now. He's home, calm, and on the return to his own good life.  Judy and I made the decision to continue on with ours, which is to winter in Phoenix. It seems good so far, but we've always realized our plans could change as life dictates. We make decisions as needed. So, today we continued Southward, and once again were blessed with traveling mercies. We left Park City about 8:30 A.M and got to St. George about 2 P.M. After we passed Provo, Utah, the roads were bare and dry, the sky was blue and welcoming, and our spirits bounced like a worn stylus on a warped record as we processed the information we got from Doctors, nurses, and kids. Once in St. George, we took time to wash Fric, since we've passed the likelihood of bad weather. We're now ready to head for the warmth of the sun for as long as we get to enjoy it. Tomorrow we head to Tucson to spend the weekend with our friends, the Krals, and Monday we'll head to Phoenix to check into our little casita. In the meantime, I've had some time to reflect on the idea that "men turn into their fathers". For me, the closeness of my father makes that a running reality show. It takes my mind to mortality,, to inevitability, and to certainty. I'm certain that I'm seeing the future; I just don't know when it will arrive. My partner and friend, Dave Ulmen, is currently living with uncertainty. The two of us share many traits, and one of them is we enjoy control. It's hard for us to come to grips that control is merely an illusion. For me, I try to accept life as it comes, and what's more, enjoy both the joy and the sorrow. When Dave and I last talked, I thought he's put himself into a place of acceptance. Regardless, in order not to give our lives over, we must wring every last moment we can out of the good life, even if we have to twist the neck off the sucker. You all know the drill: Relax. If that doesn't work. Relax harder. But always remember, we are important, and our good life is important, especially today.

Boot Camp report: No alcohol; gas pedal exercise; healthy food choices

 Good bye for now to the Park City/Priest Lake Moose.

 Good bye for now to the Park City nature reserve.

 Good bye for now to my poor losing streak cousin. Thanks for the good time.

 Good bye to the cold drizzle of Old Man Winter.

 Hello sunshine.

 Hey, Bunny. Where are your shades? Time to shed that sweatshirt!

 Our St. George AirBandB. Functional.

 Good bye road salt, road grim, and winter memories.

 Hello Jet Stream and clear blue sky.

 I like the look of snow in the distance.

 I even like it a little closer.

 I really like it as I drive away from it.

Fric, all clean and shiny, ready to show himself in the Valley of the Sun. Whoo Hoo!