Feeling Groovy

Inspirational song: Somebody to Love (Queen)

I left the party before it was over. It was super fun, boisterous, hilarious. But there's only so much entertainment I can handle. I had to put my feet up and recover from perfectly smoked ribs and bottomless red wine. Next door neighbor had a birthday party tonight. His absolutely marvelous girlfriend (seriously, this woman is a keeper--I hope they both recognize that as much as those of us not a party to the relationship can see) has party planner skills. She has led a singles meetup group for a long time, so she knows how to keep large groups of different people engaged and joyful. She also knew how to speak neighbor's love language. She ordered special cake decorations, candles, and even found packs of Kansas City Chiefs napkins locally. At some point in all our lives, we each should experience what it is like to have someone put together a birthday party for us like this. I'd say my 25th and 30th were this good. I hope you all have had someone go this far for you.

While they are eaten up with uncertainty, these neighbors desperately want to adopt the calico from the Rock and Roll litter. My neighbor dog Barley is very well loved and one of the smartest canines I have met, and I think he needs a kitten of his own to love. I keep torturing them with pictures as the kittens grow, and they squeal and pout about how ready they are for her to come out and be adopted. I understand the feeling. I got to video chat with Harvey (and my daughter) late last night, and it makes me that much more excited about seeing him too. The calico now named River Song and my little pooka Harvey are my favorites from this litter. They are going to be spoiled and loved.

I Had One Job

Inspirational song: Dog and Butterfly (Heart)

I admit to a lifelong battle with FOMO (fear of missing out). It's probably why I have gone to great lengths to say yes, to volunteer, and to go to events or outings when I really wasn't up to it or couldn't afford it, either in terms of income or energy. I had a scrimmage against FOMO this morning. It was a crummy, cloudy, damp day (so what I call "good weather" with zero irony), but after asking a friend for a weather report, Mr Smith-Park decided to head up to his mountain to make more progress on the shed/cabin. As soon as he started loading his truck, the dogs knew. They knew. As they got excited and the man got cheery about his goals for the day, I got jealous. I wanted to go. I didn't want to stay home and miss out. I made eye contact with Bumpy as he watched through the back door, waiting for the signal to load up in the truck, and I wanted to play too. I thought, if nothing else, I could just walk up with the dogs, like I did a couple of weeks ago, and let the man do his multiple trips carrying lumber by himself. The man gave me a skeptical look, and he issued a directive. He told me that my job was to stay home and heal from the infection in my kidney/urinary tract. At the time, I was still sitting in my bathrobe, working on my first cup of coffee. He waved in my general direction and said, "I'll even go out on a limb and suggest when I get back, you'll look just like this." Well, I showed him. Not only did I manage to shower and put on clothes (!!), I actually fed myself real food by two o'clock this afternoon! When I sent a text as proof, he offered me a medal for my fabulous adult behavior. Do you think he meant it?

I had high hopes of cleaning my dressing room today. I have piles of laundry waiting to hang up, and my day bed has so much junk on it, the cats can barely find good places to nap. Instead, I spent most of the day sitting against pillows, watching the TV in my room. I broke down and put the TV in here knowing that days like this were more likely to happen now. Good news was after a few antibiotics, it didn't hurt all that bad to let my back touch pillows. So I have that going for me too.

The concrete is poured on the hill. The floor of the tiny cabin may yet be built, before the real snows come. There was already a snowfall, and I was shown remnants of frozen stuff on the tepee tarp. I'll probably be able to go up there once more to help with the construction, so I feel accomplished, and beat the FOMO blues. It's hard seeing pictures of everyone having fun up there without me. Even Murray, gazing pensively across the aspen meadow, made me feel wistful and jealous.

Early Night

Inspirational song: Golden Slumbers (The Beatles)

I opened this door a long time ago. I widened it last week. I have no expectations that I can slam it shut now. In fact, I have no intention of doing it. I feel obligated to give a follow up, give full disclosure.

I spent hours today with doctors and pharmacists. I spoke with at least three of each before my day was done. While I cooked breakfast, waiting for it to be time for an appointment with my primary care doc, I got a phone call from the dermatologist. She had the results of the biopsy from the spot on my nose. She said that she sort of expected to hear what she did, that it showed a basal cell carcinoma. In her endlessly chipper and reassuring way, she told me that of all possible cancers, I won the lottery. This is the easiest one to eradicate. I was warned by a friend to expect a Mohs surgery, where they shave out tiny little pieces and examine them under a microscope to make sure they have removed all of the cancer before they stitch up the spot. I knew this was a strong possibility, and in a final gasp of vanity, I took a last glamorous selfie before the side of my nose was scarred, potentially deformed. (I posted it after the fundraiser party Friday night.) I told myself that because of where the carcinoma was, if the scarring was too bad, I would just pierce that spot, and get a nose ring. Maybe a nice purple enamel butterfly would go there.

I wore my feet out weeks ago stomping around on the Mr's mountain. So two weeks ago, I went to town on them (and all my muscles from the elbows and knees down) with a spiky massage ball. I got too rough on the left foot, where there is a heel spur, and I irritated the connective tissue there. The podiatrist I saw couldn't give a monkey's toss about it when I told her the next day, and so today I went in to whine at my primary care doc for the same thing. I had so many things to go over while I was there, it took me an hour and a half at her office. I needed referrals renewed, and I needed to tell her about the skin cancer and the encouraging diagnosis of atypical (silent) migraine from the neurologist. She and the med student intern she had in training looked over my chart, and decided I was overdue for blood tests for her. She wanted to run a golden flow type screening on me first, and they asked me to wait while they checked for infection. What should have taken several minutes was immediately positive, and they set about looking for antibiotics that I'm not allergic to. The poor intern, who had never met a complex patient like me before, asked me didn't I notice the infection? I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Dude. When you have lupus, you kind of triage the things you complain about." I have been feeling so run down, sore (in the right kidney), and feverish for so long, I just assumed it was all part of the disease, and I must be leading into a flare.

That said, I'm going to take an early night. I've been lying on my bed since I got home from a Rotary party at 7, and it's time to see what Dr Who episode is next in my DVR queue, while I play the slot machine game on my iPad. I'll leave you with the two little weasels who wanted to go face down in the bowl of eggs that were waiting to become an omelette, once the yellow peppers finished cooking. So earnest, so hopeful. So deluded.

Think Like an Animal

Inspirational song: Reynard the Fox (Fairport Convention)

This afternoon, as I was wandering around trying to get my head screwed on straight, the Mr suggested that I should go out and inspect the Adirondack chairs that we made from our old fence at the Original Park. We hadn't been using them a whole lot lately, but someone has. I worried that I'd get out there and find my cushions had been shredded. Thankfully, they were still intact, but someone very small (and most likely the owner(s) of bushy tail(s)) sat on our breakfast patio and feasted on flower heads. I think it was mostly sunflowers, but maybe there was something else mixed in. Dahlias, maybe. Every time I think how nice it would be to eradicate all of the sunflowers growing like weeds and shading parts of my garden I'd rather were clear for vegetables, I have to stop and remind myself how many other creatures are depending on those things for food. The squirrels eat the heads. The hornets eat the aphids that live on them, and on other plants. (I'm pretty sure they help lead the hornets to the other stuff covered in aphids, to clear them out.) I haven't seen my flock of chickadees in a while, since Mr S-P cut out half of their spirea bush. I wonder how much they were depending on those things for food and shade over the summer.

The new lizard doesn't seem super comfortable in the Cricketarium yet. He spends almost all of his time in the same spot, hiding from his new, large digs. I have two theories about what's happening with him. I think one thing is that he actually liked the really mean Bahamanian anole who lived with him at PetSmart, and he kind of misses that guy. The other possibility is that he's somewhat stressed by a different detail about his new home: the color. My walls are painted a color with a name like "deep mushroom." Ever since I pulled Agnes into my room, so that I wouldn't forget to water her every day while I was living alone last year, she has stayed brown. It's not her natural coloring. They're called green anoles for a reason. It never occurred to me until this week, maybe the change was a direct result of the amount of brown surrounding her all day every day. I put a philodendron in the tank last year, but it hasn't grown as full as I had hoped. It isn't enough green for her, and it doesn't seem to be enough for Lizard B either. I borrowed a patterned scarf from my daughter this evening, one that will give a vague impression of a leafy green hedge for both lizards. Agnes is still hiding in the green lizard ladder, but I think there are other reasons she is there. Lizard B is still in his spot on the stick, but he's not quite as brown. I will give this experiment a couple of days, to see whether he chills out and lets himself turn green for longer periods. I still haven't even seen him jump down to eat, so I have to hope that he's okay and not freaked out by the presence of the Cricket Mafia that has taken over the dried out moss on the bottom of the tank. If it works, I will find some sort of tank wrap that looks even more like leafy greens. I want Lizard B to feel at home.

Who Am I?

Inspirational song: True Companion (Steely Dan)

There is a very confused, nervous boy in my house now. He's not sure why he is here, nor whether he can believe me when I tell him his only job is to hang out, eat, and live a comfortable life. I've tried to talk to him to calm him down, but for the most part, he's just sitting in one spot, watching everything going on around him. And despite what you are thinking, none of the kittens from the litter at my daughter's apartment has moved in yet. This is someone entirely new.

This small creature does not yet have a name. All I knows so far is that I want it to start with the letter B. Bruno? Boris? Bronson? Boy George? I really can't decide yet. It wasn't until he had been in my house for about 30 minutes that I was sure that he was a he, not a she. I brought him here to be a companion to someone else who lives here, other than me. So far, most of us are very interested in him, but there's only one opinion of him that will matter. And her initial reaction has been one of wary observation.

Want to see who he is?

Handsome, huh? This is how he arrived at the house...

This is part of the reason he is here. Until recently, I couldn't keep crickets alive more than a week. Now they are breeding on their own, taking over the cage. There are dozens of them now. Agnes isn't keeping up with them. She is too small and too old to eat this much.

Agnes hasn't been very active for weeks. She mostly sleeps behind the lizard ladder. She's almost always brown these days. This was the first time I've seen her mostly green, because she was completely asleep when we put her new companion in the cricketarium.

 Agnes was startled awake when Mr S-P's arm came into her house. She was pretty freaked out, and hid in the fake leaves for a long time, staring at the new guy.

I'm not sure he has noticed her even now. She watched him. He didn't move to speak of. I assume he will settle in and figure out that he's in a safe, pleasant environment. It might take a while.

And of course Athena Lizardkiller has noticed there is a new toy just out of her reach. 

If you made it this far, then I want your help. What should I name him? The names I mentioned at the top are the ones I was seriously considering. I feel like there is an obvious choice that I'm too scatterbrained to recognize right away. Who is this little lizard boy, paid companion to Accidental Agnes, the Adventurous Anole?

Skin: A Cautionary Tale

Inspirational song: Sunshine On My Shoulders (John Denver)

I've often comforted myself that I am doing the right thing being so open about my life, specifically about my medical history, in the belief that I might inspire others. I am also available to inform. In certain situations, I am comfortable wearing the skin of a living, breathing cautionary tale.

I have had a bad relationship with the sun nearly my entire life. By the time I was eight, I knew it was the source of my migraine headaches, even though I would have no idea that's what they were for decades. I suffered through recess and gym class and tennis games with friends and golf lessons, hating the sun, and feeling miserable afterwards. I had that brief stint in my teens where lying out in the sun was considered a social event, and if we wore suntan lotion at all (notice the different terminology), it was SPF 2, and it was only so we were soft and smelling of coconut. By the time I was in college, I knew that I sunburned quickly, and felt like I had the flu the evening after I got one. I stayed in the shade as much as possible for my entire adult life, if I was forced to be outside.

What I didn't do was wear sunscreen. Not until last year, at least not reliably. I wondered whether it would have an effect on me, but I tempered any possible fears with the knowledge that I preferred indoors and shade. I was probably okay, I thought.

I also have been a freak about taking care of my skin. When I was 16, I saw my mom put on eye shadow, and her eyelid skin was a little slow in unwrinkling. From that moment on, I used moisturizer daily, no matter what. I paid attention to the condition of my skin. I don't mean just noticing when my skin was dry or if I had a poison ivy rash. I recognized the position and density of the moles that cover me like a Dalmation. I knew every inch very well. So I was exquisitely aware when I had the feeling that there was a needle broken off in my lip. Problem was, I ignored it for years, thinking it was so small, it couldn't be anything at all. Then, almost two years ago, I got a pimple on the side of my nose. But it wasn't a pimple. If I messed with it at all, it bled. If I picked off the scab, it came back, slightly bigger. Eventually I asked for a referral to a dermatologist.

Turns out the tiny spots were precancerous. The dermatologist would have frozen them off Friday, if I hadn't had the party to attend. She did it today, and acted like they were no big deal. The lump on my nose had to be shaved off, and sent to pathology. I'll find out about that in a few days. As the lidocaine wore off from that, the worse my day went. I took several very (very) unglamorous pictures of my face with nothing but moisturizer, pre and post procedure. Be glad I didn't take any once things went way downhill.

As a postscript: immediately following the dermatology visit today, I had my answer from the neurologist. He said my MRI looked fine (I hesitate to call my brain "normal," all things considered) and the EMG tests were good. He said my vertigo and paresthesia are from atypical migraine. So does this mean the sun is or is not my trigger? This all started at the beginning of the summer. After discussion of potential medications, we learned that most of them were contraindicated with what I am already on. If insurance approves, I could be prescribed Botox for the migraines. Not sure how it will affect my skin. I bet I'll look fantastic though.

No makeup, no glamorous lighting, no kind angles.

When you get too close to the lens, it all gets wonky, doesn't it? 

Can you see the lump on the side of my nose?

I know you can't see the precancerous spots. I couldn't.

This was before the lidocaine wore off. It all went downhill from there.

Work the Lead

Inspirational song: Keep On Working (Pete Townshend)

After a whole month off, putting together the condo that remains unrented, and trying to act as unpaid labor for every single person who has an idea and thinks to ask me to play along, I am finally back to work. It feels good on some levels, and on others, it feels weird and unfamiliar. I wonder what I missed in that long month? Have you ever gone on a really long vacation or leave of absence, and felt like an alien when you went back to the office? There is a strange disconnect with reality when you face the computer screens or office forms that you used to work on every single day, all day. They don't feel like they apply anymore.

I had to remind myself of the basic steps this morning. I had two showings with good friends who are ready to buy now, and like someone patting their pockets for keys that are always in the same place, I had to talk myself through printing out listing information, writing down door codes in places I could find them, and getting out of the house exactly on time. Even the language of real estate didn't drip from my tongue easily at first. I was rusty, but I think I got up to speed by the time we really got going.

I have gone from zero to sixty again. In the last week, I have picked up three incredibly solid leads. When I completed the last two closings on the same day, I really thought I might be completely done, with no chances for work and income in the near future. I have one guy still floating out there, wanting a big lot in the mountains, but he is probably a year out. I'm going to look okay for this year, from what I've done so far, but it's still nice to know that next year I'll actually work and make money too.

To the Clouds and Back

Inspirational song: Misty Mountain Hop (Led Zeppelin)

For my birthday last year, I was given a national parks pass. I only got to use it a few times, and it runs out in November. I need to get some good out of it and fast. I have had plenty of chances to go up and admire the fall colors at altitude, but I wanted one more trip to Trail Ridge Road before it was too late in the season to be there. Tomorrow's weather is supposed to be "dreary" (more on that later), so today was my best chance to go. My foster daughter has never been to Rocky Mountain National Park, and being a flatlander, she is unlikely to take the initiative to drive up there herself. I kidnapped her (a recurring theme with us) and off we went to Find Our Park, as it were.

Having a first-timer in the car meant I didn't mind if we were stuck in a long line of leaf-peepers, so when the traffic heading into Estes Park was literally backed up for four or five miles up the highway and stopped dead, I took it as an opportunity to describe what we would be doing. She not only isn't used to driving on twisty turny mountain roads, she's not used to riding on them or being at altitude much at all. She wasn't sure she was ready for what I was suggesting. I wanted to take Fall River Road to the top, and it only goes one direction, so it had to be done first. I negotiated with her by talking about Stephen King novels, and pointed out that the turn to the main entrance to the Park went through a super congested downtown, while the less-traveled route to the Fall River side went past the Stanley Hotel, the site of the genesis of The Shining. There were remarkably few other cars heading the direction we were, and I started to get a little paranoid that this gate was already closed for the season. But our friends who live in Estes were there just a couple days ago, as photographs evinced, so we pressed on. We got into the Park quickly, with no vehicular backups.

Once inside the confines of RMNP, we started to see more fall colors. The trip up from Lyons is mostly evergreen trees, nearly no aspens to stop and admire. We pulled over only a couple times down low, where I pointed up and showed her the clouds swallowing the top of the mountains. I said we were headed there, into that mist. I'm not sure she believed me at the time.

The trip up Fall River Rd is slow and steep, and on clear days the views go for miles. On misty days, they're spooky and mysterious. I enjoyed this in a completely different way than when we drove up during the summer. Foster daughter had fun, possibly because the mist was so thick she couldn't see how high up we were driving, nor how steep was the drop off in certain stretches.

We ended up at the visitor's center at the top of Trail Ridge when we reached the end of Fall River Road. It spits out at the base of the trail where one can hike up to 12,000 feet (plus), and we could barely see it. By then the fog was so thick we could only see ten or fifteen yards in front of our faces. It was a sneak preview of my very favorite day of the year, the first cold and gloomy and drizzly day when everything smells of pine wood smoke and the only things you can think about are blankets and hot chocolate. It's due down here tomorrow, if the forecast is correct. But up on top of the mountain, there was actually snow in the mist. I had snowflakes melting in my hair, on the first full day of fall!

We went to one rest station, and it had a sign that the bathrooms were already closed, and the whole of Trail Ridge would close by 8 for incoming weather. We went to the visitor's center for coffee and Fritos, and as soon as we finished paying, they announced that the weather had rolled in even sooner, and we all had fifteen minutes to buy anything we were holding, and get out. We took our snacks and left, heading back down, stopping only in Lyons for early dinner. It was a fantastic trip for me, and it was a whole load of fun getting to show my foster daughter the mega park up the hill from us for the first time. I can't wait to take her back up next year. I think I want another parks pass for this birthday too.

Give 'Em Hell, Harry

Inspirational song: Money (Pink Floyd)

I promised a bunch of photos from yesterday's mountain trip, and I will deliver tonight. I could let this post be 90% pictures, but I had a wonderful evening that I want to talk about. I'll post a couple pix from that too.

Yesterday's mountain climb took a lot out of me, but today's monstrous stiffness and soreness was totally worth it for all that I got to do. I kept my eyes open, focused out the side of the car. For the first half of the drive, I just soaked it in and let the pretty colors lighten my soul. I even turned my phone completely off so that the bouncing along the 4WD roads wouldn't register as steps on my exercise tracker. (It always announces "Goal achieved!" when we park the car, and I just roll my eyes.) But it was so amazingly beautiful, the Mr said no, you're going to want to have the camera ready. He was right. So I hopped out of the truck a few times, to get some shots along Fenceline Road, to capture the amazing little trail where we were driving, and to chase the beautiful golds and oranges. Hell, it was so neat up there, I even took a picture of the Harry Potter lightning bolt scar on a tree where I peed in the woods. I went a little nuts with the camera.

This morning was a first meeting with a dermatologist. It went well, but I will have more to say about that Monday when I see her again. (We split the visit because of tonight's party.) You are warned.

A year ago, when things were crashing and burning with Mr S-P and I, one of the last things he wanted to do before he moved out was to make sure I broke out of my shell enough to go to the Truman Dinner. This year, while he is back living in this house, I returned the favor. I am glad that he insisted last time, and I'm glad that I pushed him to go with me this time. We knew a whole lot more of the faces, and we made great contacts. I got face time with my area coordinator. He met someone our age with a military history that can give his wild stories a run for their money. The man who sat next to me at our dinner table may be looking for a home in the gorgeous neighborhood where I have been dying to work. The keynote speaker, who had direct involvement in getting Sheriff Joe Arpaio fired, was marvelously interesting. And I nabbed a really cool poster in the silent auction. It was several giant steps forward into getting plugged into this community, and into the political arena where I want to be. I'm fired up and ready to go.

From tonight:

And from yesterday, including the cart full of lumber, before the wheel got bent and we had to haul each board up to the campsite by hand. And between trips up and down the mountain, I sat in the dirt and sorted out all the rocks from where the foundation pillars will go. And did I mention I fell multiple times over the course of the day? I still hurt...