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Monthly Archives: August 2015

Frank, the Immovable Object!

Remember how I mentioned a couple days ago that Frank finally deigned to sleep on the air bed? Well, it goes beyond that … he’s now decided it belongs to him!

I should have recognized it when it began. About a week ago, Frank started heading straight for the air bed when we came in for the evening. He wouldn’t even wait for me to take his leash and collar off. At the time, I guess I was just grateful that I could simply reach down to unfasten his collar instead of having to stoop all the way over … or lie down on the floor before taking it off him.

Anyhow, he did the same thing last night. But I had different plans. Instead of stretching out on the floor for an hour or so … catching up on news and baseball scores … I thought perhaps the best thing for my aching hip would be to go straight to bed (even though it was only about 9:15pm when we finally made it in).

This meant I had to make up the bed, which is quite a process. I layer 1/3 of each comforter (one on top of the other), with the balance of one falling over the front side with the excess of the other one pushed against the far back side. I then lie on the layered portion, pull the back comforter over first, followed with the excess of the front one pulled over the top. This is made somewhat difficult by the fact that there’s about a 15% “lean” to the bed from back side to front. Unfortunately, that was the flattest piece of ground I could find, but it is what it is. (And yes, I could make the bed in the morning.  I don’t. That’d be too smart!)

I used to describe this as a “Jeff burrito” … given the nighttime temperatures though, it’s more like a cold wrap. That sleeping bag purchase can’t come soon enough!

Of course, I had to move Frank off the bed, which involved picking him up since he wasn’t going to move of his own accord. I lay the front comforter down, get it all spread out … and then here comes Frank, leaping up past me as if he had a hard day at work and couldn’t wait to hit the sack (I was with him all day – he didn’t!)

dogshear

Yeah, don’t believe it!

So Frank winds up in my arms, accompanied by a “No. Frank, No. Stay down.” I begin with the back comforter and haven’t even gotten it fully spread out before Frank makes jump #2. This time, he lays at the far back corner of the bed, on a pile he’s quickly made with the back comforter. He’s smart – he knows I’ll have to reach for him back there and won’t have the leverage to easily pick him up. But I do.

This time, I’m a bit more vocal – “I said NO, Bud! You stay down, understand?” Of course I’m greeted by the blank “dog stare” … those of you with dogs know exactly what I mean. He’s trying to get you to believe that the only word he recognizes in those sentences is “Frank,” but I know better!

I get the second comforter squared away and then proceed to climb into bed. All I get out of my mouth is, “Frank, you can …,” before I see he’s already jumped and his front paws are two inches from landing. I appreciate the respect, Roomie.

But then, Frank goes for the spot right behind my knees and lies on top of the pile of comforter that I was just about to throw over us. And that’s when this cute, little, 30+ lb. beagle goes into “immovable object” mode. And THIS transpires:

J: (patting on the bed in front of me) “Come on, Frank. Let’s go. Up here.”

F: Dog stare.  He’s lying down and grinning at me with his head in the air.

J: “Hey. I mean it, Bud! Get up here. NOW!”

F: A quick glance out into the tent. Back to the dog stare for a few seconds, grin disappears … and then he looks away from me and puts his head down on the side of my knee. Basically, he’s saying, “Yeah, I understood you the first time, ‘Bud’ … not gonna happen.”

J: “You little son-of-a-bitch! You’re moving, whether you like it or NOT!”

Frank hates when I call him that, because he knows that’s exactly what he is! He doesn’t hear it often … I remember the second time I called him that and he gave me a look like he was thinking, “You know, it doesn’t matter how good I am – I’ll still be a son-of-a-bitch to everyone!”

So now, I have to try and extract him. I’m on my side with one arm propping me up; he’s at the back of my knees; the air bed is moving in response to my trying to reach him … and the result is that I have zero leverage with which to pull him up and over my legs with my one free hand. This is made all the more difficult by the fact that ole’ Frank has completely relaxed his body. He’s now decided he’s not going to offer me any help and has become dead weight. Total dead weight!

I don’t want to get out of the bed because that’d mean I’m back at square one – having to remake the bed and fight Frank all over (which would probably mean we’d only wind up back in these same positions). So I picked up the covers he was lying on and pulled them up over him. If I couldn’t leverage with my arm, I was damned sure going to do it with something else!

I gotta give him credit – he’s a dog that remains true to his convictions! He didn’t give up until his ass was at about a 45 degree angle above his head. At that point, he decided it was best to walk out of it rather than be tossed head over haunches and possibly off the bed! He walked up to where I was (giving me a dirty look the whole way), but then plopped down right in the middle of the bed … two-thirds of which was mine … and put his head down right smack dab in the middle of the pillow. Then he closes his eyes as if he was saying, “Okay. I’m up here. Satisfied? Good night!” If his Humane Society paperwork didn’t say otherwise, I’d say, “Man, this dog has some balls!”

I pushed him towards the front side; scooched myself over so that I was lying on double comforter (which isn’t all that easy with a bouncing air bed at a 15% tilt); and wrapped us up in our little coccoon. I finally picked his head up off my pillow  … even when I moved him, he struggled against me in order to keep his head where it was! As a compromise, I gave him the other, smaller pillow I usually have against the small of my back. In return, he gave me a look as if he was saying, “Can we go to sleep now? Please???” and put his head back down on his pillow.

At this point, I go to put on my C-pap mask … the machine has been going this whole time and because of the man vs. beast mattress tussle, has now shifted to a place on the bed where I can’t reach it without pulling both sets of covers away so I can turn around.

Covers are back secure. The mask is on. I put my head down, look forward … and see Frank with his head craned back, looking at me with disgust.

“Fuck you,” I said.  I felt that was the appropriate comment to make..

Frank pondered that for a minute while still looking at me. He then turned his neck … put his head down … and let out a big, disgusted “PFFFFtttt” from his jowels. He was snoring in less than 5 minutes!

It’s a dog’s life. Yeah. Right.

(Of course, the next morning I awake to a head butt and my face being showered with dog kisses. At least he doesn’t hold a grudge!)

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Posted by on August 29, 2015 in Travels

 

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Rocky Mountain “High” (with apologies to John Denver)

Some time ago, when I was seeing a therapist in New Jersey, we discussed medical marijuana as an approach to coping with some of my complex-PTSD symptoms, specifically the anxiety and the “fight or flight” approach I had devolved into. At the time, the VA was looking at doing testing on vets relative to PTSD due to anecdotal evidence of some positive benefits.

New Jersey has a medical marijuana law, but it’s really a joke. There are very few dispensaries and the law is so restrictive it’s next to impossible to take advantage of it. Aside from that though, I wasn’t really interested in going that route, primarily because it would have created issues in the relationship I was in at the time.

Colorado was in the plans when I started this little journey, though … with the expressed intent of partaking in a toke (or two, or two hundred), just to see if it might help.

I didn’t think it would. I had smoked dope pretty steadily for about 15 years, all the while experiencing high levels of anxiety and depression (although they were nowhere near the levels I’ve dealt with during the last four years or so). Nevertheless, I figured “what have I got to lose?”

I hit Pagosa Springs on July 22nd. The following morning, after Frank and I had breakfast at The Muffin Shoppe, we drove over to one of the retail dispensaries just outside town – Pagosa Springs has barred dispensaries within city limits.  As a consequence, they located in unincorporated Archuleta County.

brucebanner

Bruce Banner strain, courtesy of CannabisSearch.com

The guy behind the counter was pretty helpful, recommending a sativa strain … something about it having more “head” impact while the indica strain is more body-oriented. Who knew when we were younger? Back then, I just smoked to get stoned! Anyhow, I walked out with a quarter ounce of “Bruce Banner” – 80% sativa and 20% indica.

That quarter ounce (7 grams) lasted a month. You can tell that I’m not smoking all that much on a daily basis … it works out to about 1/4 gram a day. I’ve typically been having 3 small bowls a day (I bought a tiny glass pipe that holds one, maybe two tokes): one around lunchtime, one at dinner and one before I go to bed.  Last week, I purchsed another quarter ounce.  This time, it was “Sour Deisel,” another sativa strain.  Both purchases cost about $100.

The result has been … ummmm … enjoyable? It’s not enough to really get stoned. Most times I hardly feel more than a buzz, similar to what I feel after a couple gin and tonics. Is it helping my mood? I think so. Is it helping my anxiety and depression? I don’t know, primarily because I didn’t approach this like a scientific experiment. Part of me wishes I would have.

sourdeisel

Sour Deisel, courtesy of wikipedia.org

You see, there are multiple reasons why I’m in a better mood. My anxiety is way down. I still feel the occassional downward drift in mood, but it’s been quite controllable. Other times I’ve felt similar drifts in the past? They’ve taken me all the way into a bottomless pit. Not this time, though.

If I was so inclined, I could attribute the improved spirits entirely to the weed, but that’s not the case. The other contributing factors are:

• Getting out of the extreme southern heat into more hospitable climes
• Taking advantage of my free mornings for prayer and meditation
• Being outside instead of confined behind four walls … granted, I’m still not fully interacting with people. I still have a certain “uneasiness” when I’m with more than a few people at a time, like at the communal campfire the owners host on Saturday night. I’ve been to two of them, excusing myself early both times to hit the sack. There’s another one in a couple of days. We’ll see how it goes.
• The support I’ve gained from the thoughts and prayers of others. When I was younger, I used to believe in the efficacy of prayer and am trying to get back to that place. For what it’s worth, friends have been offering support for years.  I’m finally at a point where I’m mentally able to appreciate it, I think.

As an aside, my concept of “prayer” doesn’t involve asking for something. Well, maybe it does … but what I’m asking for is for a clearer sense of my identity. Not necessarily to be freed from mental anguish, but for the insight to dealing with it.  That probably doesn’t make sense.  It’s more about trying to align myself to a higher power rather than request favors from Him. That’s majorly influenced by my Christian Science upbringing … but that’s a topic for another post, in and of itself!

I guess time will tell as to what part the weed played in my improved coping ability and better mood: I’ll be back in Texas in less than 2 months and won’t be returning with any illegal substances. Given my appearance, I’m quite certain I’d be profiled by a highway patrolman on my way out of Colorado while he puts a call in for the drug-sniffing dog (I saw three cars pulled over in New Mexico, just over the border from Colorado … my limited research says the profiling thing is definitely going on.)

Nope, once back in Texas … without the heat … we’ll see how I’m doing, mentally. But for now, things are pretty cool!

——————-
The last week was pretty enjoyable for another reason: the neighboring campsite had a new tenant. Kent came up for his 4th annual visit from San Antonio. He was by himself because of a sick dog and a wife that preferred staying home to watch the dog than rough it for a week in a teardrop camper.

Kent is a contemporary of mine (shared generational experiences) and he was very pleasant evening company. We both did our own thing during the day … around 6pm, we’d get together for gin & tonics, followed by dinner. We took turns on the food. My contribution was Italian sausage, chicken and burgers accompanied by various cole slaws, potato salads and the like. Kent also did burgers and chicken, along with a “cookout” lasagna casserole that was out of this world (I got the recipe)!  As an aside, are beet salads not universally well-liked?  I wound up having it by myself for lunch the day after I though Ken was going to puke on his shoes at the mere mention of “beet” anything!  :o)

After dinner, we usually just sat and shot the shit. I’ve not been making any fires it my individual site, despite having my own fire ring … I’ve not wanted to spend the $5/day for firewood. Kent wasn’t under the same restriction as me, so we had a fire any night it wasn’t raining. I might splurge and do a fire a couple nights a week. I have to admit, it was nice getting warmed up before hitting the sack on a cold air mattress! When I get my next Social Security payment in mid-September, I’m going to have to bite the bullet and get a zero-degree rated, double wide sleeping bag … one big enough for both me and Frank!

Frank has been sleeping with me a bit more – he’s decided that the warmth is worth the risk of the occassional errant leg kick! In fact, he’s decided to abandon the lower portion of the bed: he’s typically in bed before me and has already commandeered one of the pillows by the time I’m ready to hit the sack!

During the day, Frank’s been working on the little summer place he’s been building underneath the bushes near the picnic table. He’s dug multiple levels AND flattened out some nearby grass for his lanai! He’ll move from one level to the other based on the sun’s position in the sky.

That’s about it for now. Wish I could say that the days have been bursting with activity, but I’d be lying if I did. Actually, I’m sort of okay with having used the last 5 weeks for nothing more than rest, relaxation and recuperation. I’m taking this as it comes, which is a new experience for me.

Here are a couple of fun photos of Frank I thought I’d share …

franks dirty nose

Here’s Frank, in the midst of “heavy construction” :o)

franks hole

Here’s Frank in his “sun room”, enjoying the fruits of his labors.

 
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Posted by on August 27, 2015 in Musings

 

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Perseid Memories

Frank and I stayed up for the Perseid meteor shower on Wednesday night. It was everything I was hoping for … but I’d like to digress a bit before going into that experience.

I’ve always loved astronomy. When I was seven, I got a book on astronomy as a gift: I think it only took about a month before it had been memorized! When I started a paper route, it was specifically to save money for a telescope. As an aside, I remember seeing the semi-famous “Wanaque Reservoir” UFO when I was out collecting for that route. Funny, I can remember everything about that night … how clear the sky was, how cold it was, how that unexplained light circled all around the sky, not seeming to fly anywhere in a straight line … and yet I can’t remember what I had for dinner the night before last!

Anytime a celestial event occured, I was out there to watch! Lunar and solar eclipses. The comets Halley and Kohotek. Planetary alignments. And of course, meteor showers. I don’t know what it was that was so interesting about astronomy, except that it was a pretty good distraction from all the other shit I was having to deal with in the real world.

Anyhow, the Perseids have always been a great event. They come at the height of summer, when it’s usually easier to take time off the next morning. You don’t have to worry about cold weather (unless you happen to be watching them at 7,200 ft. altitude in the Colorado Rockies). And they can usually be counted on for a pretty good display.

I have one special memory associated with the Perseids and it happens to also involve Colorado. Back in 1978, I was CFO of a youth organization, Adventure Unlimited. The headquarters was in Denver and there was a camp near Buena Vista, about a three-hour drive to the southwest. The camp was at about the same altitude as where we are now staying.

I was not quite 25 when I took the job and quite a bit younger than everyone else in the office. Consequently, I became really good friends with my assistant and her husband, Debbie and Chris Hopple … they were my age and shared some similar outlooks.  Chris was a straw boss at the camp and Debbie would move down to Buena Vista for the summer to be the camp’s onsite bookkeeper. Along with my first wife, we spent a lot of time together, going to shows, dinner, etc.  I’m secure enough in my manhood to say the four of us even saw Barry Manilow at Red Rocks together.  :o)

When it came time for the Perseids to peak, Chris and I spent the night in sleeping bags, camped out on the observatory deck of the main lodge building.  They were incredible that night – I don’t think it was a particularly brilliant storm, but that was the first time I had watched the shower completely separate from city lights! Up to that point, I had never seen the night sky the way we saw it that night. The meteor shower was just icing on the cake, and it didn’t disappoint!

Chris, Debbie and I all went our separate ways over the next year: they left to work on a school’s staff in England the next year and a few months later, I left to move to the San Francisco Bay area. We hooked up again in 1981 when they came back to the states, with a new baby daughter. They visited me in San Jose and we spent a couple of days together. They had initially thought about living in southern California, near Chris’s mom, but loved the mountains so much they moved back to Buena Vista.

Two years later, Chris and Debbie were killed by a drunk driver. I found out by happenstance. Another former co-worker came to visit sometime in ’84. I asked about them, he went ashen and then told me the horrible news. They had been driving back to Buena Vista after visiting her folks in Golden. The other driver crossed over into the wrong lane and hit them head on. Debbie was killed instantly … Chris died a couple of days later. Both their kids (they had a second child the year before the accident) were in the car with them and survived some pretty bad injuries.

The Perseids give me a chance to remember Chris and Deb at least once a year (although they come to mind quite a bit more than that). This year wasn’t any different and it was a bit more poignant, seeing as how I was only a couple of hours from where Chris and I spent that night under the stars almost 40 years ago.

coloradonightskys

Here’s the one shot I was able to get during the shower.

I had wanted to try my hand at taking some night photography, something I’ve never done before. The skies on Monday and Tuesday night didn’t allow for a “test drive” … it was overcast and raining both evenings. I was able to take a few earlier in the evening and managed to get one shot of a couple of meteors – the camera froze up after that (it took me until late afternoon Thursday to figure out the battery didn’t have enough juice to allow for any shutter settings).

So instead of worrying about photography, I sat in my camp chair, with Frank in my lap. We had a front row seat for a spectacular show. And in the middle of it, I hoisted a Corona Light to Chris and Deb’s memory.

 
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Posted by on August 15, 2015 in Musings

 

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Enjoying Colorado Decompression

If things had worked out as originally planned, I’d be in a new location today. As it is though, I’ve got a whole ‘nother month before having to deal with breaking camp. When it first happened that we needed to find an alternate campsite, a lot of friends tried to help me put my initial reaction aside. They offered up the bright side of things (“One less move you’ll have to do,” “This other place will be better for you,” and “You were really lucky the next place was able to take you early,” for example.

And they were right. I didn’t realize the avoided move date until late afternoon Wednesday. And when that happened, a huge grin came on me. I’m just really relaxed and am not quite ready for that to end. Not that it has to be any different when I make it to La Veta next month … I’m just feeling incredibly mellow. The last three-plus weeks have allowed for an incredible period of decompression. As I sit here, I’m hard-pressed to remember when I’ve gone this long without feeling heightened levels of anxiety and depression, flash-flood warning aside … we’ve had another one in the past week and the river didn’t rise a foot. I’ll be alert, but I sure as hell won’t sweat it like I did the first one.

I remember something another blogger wrote to me: The Traveling Rabbit. Check out her blog – she talked about her own experiences living on the road and said that it would “invigorate” me. And that after not dealing with the struggles of a “normal” life for a period of time, I’d find “release”. I think I’m there.

Remember the last post, where I noted that Frank and I had done absolutely nothing? Well, we accomplished more of the same this week, too! Frank’s pretty much done with the little summer home he’s been excavating under the bushes and I alternate between sitting at the picnic table and the camp chair. We’ve gone a couple of walks and have visited the river a few times, too so that Frank can lay in the water and let it cool his belly. But that’s the extent of it.

The weather has been exceptional. Real feel temps in the mid-80’s during the day, but it’s been getting down into the high-40’s at night … Frank’s decided warmth was worth the chance of getting kicked and has deigned to sleep with me on a couple of those really cold nights. I think I will invest in a doublewide sleeping bag for when I hit south Texas – according to all I’ve read about this year’s El Nino, we’re going to be enduring lower-than-normal temps and higher-than-normal precipitation. I’d just as soon be warm while doing it.

We did go to town on Sunday. We were down to our last $80 before the next Social Security payment arrival on the 19th. We bought water and a bunch of canned goods that were on sale for $1 each. Mostly Chef Boyardi, but also picked up some chile and tuna as well. Looks like we’ll make it through Tuesday with about $20 to spare. I know I’m back to losing weight, just from sitting at the picnic table. I’m pretty sure I’ve dropped another 20 lbs since arriving here.

We’ve been without Internet for almost 48 hours, too. Went out late Tuesday afternoon and only came back on around 4pm on Thursday. We put that time to good use by … again … doing nothing. It’s been glorious!

The only other thing of note was that we stayed up for the Perseids meteor shower on Wednesday night, but I’d like to talk about that in a separate post, tomorrow.

So that’s it! I could really get used to this.

 
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Posted by on August 14, 2015 in Travels

 

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Time Flies When You’re … Doing Nothing?

I can’t believe we’ve been here in Pagosa Springs for two weeks already!  It really does seem like we arrived just a few days ago. At the two week mark, I’d have been making preparations to move camp in all of my previous stays … but we have another 5 weeks here before leaving for La Veta. Very cool, indeed!

Despite doing pretty much nothing except for one day trip, the time has gone by pretty fast! We have gone into town a few times, but for the most part have just been enjoying peace and serenity.

San Juan River

Here’s a glimpse at the river running behind our campsite

This place has been a Godsend! The weather has been wonderful, with the exception of the monsoon we experienced on Sunday. We were actually under a flash flood watch which, having gone through a flood once before, had me a bit on edge. The bulletin said to be especially careful about dry gullies and small streams … and while they may CALL what we’re camping next to “a river”, it’s really nothing more than a glorified stream in my book. So during brief respites from the rain during the day, I moved everything from the tent to the car except for the airbed, the cpap and the flooring stuff. Just to be on the safe side.

The watch ended at 3am Monday morning and I stayed up until the end. Starting around 10pm. it poured for about 3 1/2 hours and I checked the river at least once an hour during the rain. For the record, the tent is about 20 feet from the river bank and probably 4 feet above where the water normally runs. The river is about another 10-12 feet from the bank too, so it would have had to be a helluva runoff before it breached. Yes – to quote Buffalo Springfield, “Paranoia strikes deep!”

In the morning, the river had risen about 1 1/2 feet, was running at more than twice its normal speed and was quite muddied from all the silt being washed down from the mountains. Today? It’s returned to it’s regular state (except for still running a bit fast, which just makes for a slightly different melody).

That’s about the only “adventure” Frank and I have had so far. As mentioned above, we also took a long drive on day. We headed south into New Mexico and then across the northern part of the state into Arizona. The scenery was spectacular! I took some photos but really didn’t do it justice. As we continued on our trip, we saw more and more mesas, rocky outcroppings and huge stone monoliths.

Four Cornerss

People I don’t know, standing on what ISN’T the Four Corners

Once in Arizona, we headed back north, stopping at Four Corners before we headed back home. (To my chagrin, Dennis … one of my NJ high school buddies … posted something on Facebook the next day about how the Four Corners monument is about 2.5 miles away from where it should be – my first thought was, “Geezus and I paid $5 to get in???”)

There are a number of cute towns in southwestern Colorado. We stopped for gas in Cortez and then headed into Durango. Frank and I will probably make a return trip later this month to see a bit more.

Other than that? Frank and I have both “chillaxed” right next to the tent. Well, at least I have … Frank took a few days to build out a little home underneath the brush at the edge of our camp, between the picnic table and the river. At first, it started out with him just flattening down the grass. But a few days later, Frank decided to add a basement (or perhaps a storm shelter, given his experiences on the road to date). He started digging as if he had discovered where the Utes of long ago had stashed their dog treats! Anyhow, he’s been camped out there ever since. The overhang provides a nice respite from the sun which can beat down pretty hard, even if the temp readings are only in the mid 80’s. The cool dirt must feel good on his belly, too.

Frank in the hole

Frank enjoying phase I (before the basement addition) of his summer retreat.

We’ve also taken a few walks around the facilities. We’ve also walked up the river a bit, much to Frank’s enjoyment. He found a number of pools created by the running water where he could do his “water plop”. I’ll have to remember to take a camera for our next walk. He lies in the water with his head and tail sticking out … the tail bobs back and forth and he’s usually got a huge smile on his face! Aside from that though, we have done absolutely nothing!

One of the best things to happen though, was our visit from an old long time high school friend from Dallas, Warren. Warren and his wife Dinah recently retired to Colorado Springs, having moved from Houston last year. We had planned to get together at my first camp since it was only 90 minutes from Warren’s home, but when fate had Frank and I canceling plans in Howard and heading directly to Pagosa Springs, I thought our visit might have to be delayed until Colorado campsite #3 in La Veta. As it turned out though, they were visiting family in Durango and were able to stop by camp for about two hours before they had to head back home.

Words can’t adequately express how blessed I felt because of their visit! Warren has a soft-spoken “kindness” about him and offered some very nice words of encouragement, as did Dinah. He referred to this little escapade I’m on as a “time out” and talked about my getting ready for whatever the next chapter of my life brings. When I told him that I hadn’t considered my trip in that manner, feeling more like it was an admission of failure at life, he was very quick to counter that.

“Jeff, people take time outs all the time,” Warren said. “You see younger people getting fed up with careers and doing what you’re doing quite often these days. You’ll figure it out and go on to something else when the time is right. All you’re doing now is getting yourself chilled out.”

Warren

Warren, me and Mr. Tree (look close)

I don’t know if it was his manner, the fact that I’ve been finally able to relax in “non-first-level-of-hell” temperatures, the daily meditation work I’ve been doing since we arrived here, the evening pipes hits I’ve allowed myself to indulge … after reading some studies done on medical marijuana and PTSD, I bought 7 grams of pot when I first arrived and have over half of it left after two weeks … or some combination of all of the above that allowed me to hear what he was saying. It might be that Warren’s words were the final hammer blow on the rock representing my psyche. Larry has mentioned numerous times that he feels I’m going to light somewhere. Online friends AND those I visited with in Dallas have all asked, “so where are you going to wind up?” But after Warren left, his words stayed with me. And for the first time since I “decision time” back in January, I’ve actually conidered the possibility that this won’t be the end of me. I don’t have an inkling as to what the next phase might be, but I’m at least ready to concede that at some later point in time, I might be able to make another stab at “life” again. I don’t see it coming any time soon, but hey! It’s a far cry from figgering that the road trip was going to end in death.

I am most grateful to all the friends that have voiced encouragement; who have sent good thoughts and prayers my way; who have offered support for what I’m going through; who have just simply kept in touch as Frank and I go on our journey. Larry, Eric, Donna, Jeanie, Andy, Terrie, the Friday and Saturday lunch groups in Dallas … these folks and many others have all helped my mental state immeasurably. Thanks to all of you. But I want to express a special “thank you” to Warren and Dinah for being there at the right time to offer words that I could finally hear.  I’m looking forward to seeing you again in a couple of months.

 
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Posted by on August 4, 2015 in Travels

 

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