Live the life you love, love the life you live

I talked to my grandparents tonight. Well, mainly my grandfather. My grandmother is so very sweet, but can’t hear worth shit and gets confused very easily. My grandfather, who is one of my ultimate heroes, has been battling cancer for about two years now. Recently we found out the cancer is beginning to win again and he has been undergoing chemotherapy, which has taken a toll on his already frail body. He is a feisty old German, though, and has been fighting it tooth and nail all along the way and taking it all in stride. Let me just tell you it’s so hard to see someone who, for so long you envision as being so resilient and superhuman, getting knocked on their ass by something so invasive. It sucks beyond belief.

There is so much petty bullshit I have left behind in my life, and I couldn’t be happier about it, but no matter how much bullshit you let go of, you can’t stop the process of aging or death. So “get over it or die pissed”, as my mother would say. All I know is hold on tight to the ones you hold dear while you can because in the end we have nothing but time and it is so, so precious.

The New Giclee

Purple Shadow Game Time by Cyrus Mejia

So I'm Old. So What?

So contrary to prior posts that may or may not be interpreted as morbid, I will say here (hopefully to add pics later) how great my birthday celebration was. For starters, and possibly one of the ultimate coolest gifts I’ve ever received, was a signed, numbered giclee print of a painting by local artist and BF founder Cyrus Mejia. The piece is entitled “Purple Shadow Game Time“. If you don’t know of Cyrus and his work, you should definitely check out his website. Not only is he incredibly talented, he is also an extremely personable fellow and all around nice guy.

My sweetheart had evidently been scheming and planning this gift for over a month. Made several visits to Cyrus’s workspace and gallery, trips to the art framer, and so forth. I knew he was up to some kind of surprise, but I never suspected an art piece, which makes it that much sweeter.

On Saturday before an evening out I got a cut & color at the local salon, which Jon had arranged, and he also presented me with a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure for later this week. Yeehaw! It’s almost like we live in a real city! Except that they couldn’t get me in for the mani/pedi until a week later. (But that only prolongs the excitement, right?)

My parents called me from a weekend away in Wendover, NV where they celebrated my mom’s birthday (2 days after mine). It was a milestone birthday for her. I won’t reveal her true age for fear of torturous retribution. (And also, it isn’t polite). She isn’t ashamed of it, as well she shouldn’t be. She’ll tell you if you ask, it’s just not my place to spill the beans, so I’ll just let you ask and she can tell you.

The weekend continued with as most pleasant dinner followed by a gathering afterward where many, many beers were consumed by yours truly surrounded by friends, cards and poker chips. So many thanks to all who contributed to an awesome kick ass birthday. Especially Jennifer & Daron who generously lent us their home & backyard for the occasion. Mwah!

Postscript: I forgot to mention the CAKE. Jon had the baker at the local grocery store make me a cake in the likeness of a SOFTBALL. (Realize sick humor implicated here by reading my post from Aug. 9th). Needless to say, it was a big surprise to say the least. Also, see a few pics from the party by visiting Jen & Daron's Blog. I'm hoping to have more pics to post once they're rounded up (including pics of the cake) so stay tuned for future posts.

Reality Bites

Today is my birthday and I was reminded of my own mortality first thing this morning. I wish a funny anecdote was to follow, but unfortunately that is not the case.

I was slated to join the interns on their last day as Jill (their advisor and my fellow office mate) was taking them on a hike at the sanctuary. I got up and set off early so as to be ready as we were scheduled to meet up fairly early. As I passed the interstate weigh station in the canyon and approached the shooting range, traffic came to an abrupt halt. I suspected there was an oversize load or a person hauling a boat that was jamming up the flow, but as we sat idly for a few minutes, which turned into five, then ten, I realized this was not a typical delay.

As I waited, I saw an ambulance pass us in the oncoming lane to where the traffic came to a head up above us. Another few minutes, another ambulance. Not looking good. A few people turned around in our lane and headed back toward town. I briefly considered doing the same, but figured I might as well stick it out. I soon saw someone I recognized coming toward me and approached his car as another employee of the sanctuary chatted with him from the driver’s side window. “Is there an accident?”, I asked, to which he answered “Looks that way”. He headed on in the other direction when I noticed several other sanctuary staff exit their vehicles and begin chatting along the side of the highway as we all waited. I finally got a clue and turned off the engine to my truck and joined them. Someone had muffins. We were all relieved we didn’t have coffee (so we would have to ‘go’) since we were out in the open and there wasn’t really a place to go to the bathroom. I also let the girls out of the truck, since they hadn’t been out to have their morning potty break either. The girls and I stood with the other folks and we chatted in the chilly air as we watched yet another two ambulances, three tow trucks, and a life flight helicopter arrive. After a long time, two of the tow trucks came back down the canyon, one with a large pick up truck with the front driver’s side smashed, and another with a van with a smashed front and rear.

After a while a man in an SUV drove by telling everyone it should only be another 20 minutes or so before things were cleared. We saw the helicopter fly away, and then the road was finally opened. A few hundred yards up the road, just around the bend from where we had been waiting, was the shooting range, and right in front of the turnoff was a mass of metal and plastic, and a mangled sedan with a tarp draped over it.

I don’t know a whole lot in life but I do know that having a tarp draped over a totaled vehicle at an accident scene is not a good sign. I said a silent prayer for whoever was in that vehicle (as well as the others) and continued up the canyon. Although I have my suspicions, I don’t know if anyone is deceased. I certainly hope not, but don’t know that that is the case.

Needless to say, I missed my hike but I received a good reminder in the value of life and appreciation for it. Apologies for the possible grim interpretation of this note but I'll fill you in on the joy of celebrating and receiving my birthday loot in another post.

Home Ownership

So I have never personally owned a house and of course that changed when I met and married Jaime.

When we lived in Salt Lake, things like yardwork never really meant much, because our yard was a piece of crap and we didn't care, but here in Kanab it is different.

We moved in to a home with a landscaped yard. Brand new sod, sprinkler system, beautiful rose bushes. I feel like a real ass if I don't mow my lawn here for the obvious reason of feeling like a lazy piece of shit, but also because others on my street have beautifully manicrured lawns. Like I think they spend hours cutting each blade with a pair of scissors. So anyway, bottom line is that it sucks. Xeriscape here we come.

Oh also been really into The Pick Up Artist on VH1. It actually is a horrible, excruciatingly sick hour of TV, but like a car wreck you CANNOT look away. I mean I don't need to see a show like that, just ask Jaime. I GOT the moves yo.

Oh and remind me to blog about the human waste in the downstairs bathtub. Home ownership can be a pain in the ass.

Love Dogs

My dear friend up north calls me a callous, bitter, asshole. Is that a bit harsh? Neh, she knows me well, and she still loves me. We’re tight—we were both in each others’ weddings. She also knows a side of me that many do not. That being said, here goes for one of my favorite Rumi poems. So much attached to this. So much, so long ago, and now. In part, I present to you, Love Dogs.



~Love Dogs~

This longing
you express is the return message.

The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
to be one of them.


~Rumi

This verse usually makes me cry or gives me the chills at the very least. I’m going to be posting some other little gems from Rumi, and also Thich Nhat Hanh. My husband will probably accuse me of being a freakish hippie but I’ll just have to remind him yet again that that’s what he signed up for. :)

Take Me Out To The Ball Shame

If you beg them they will come.

First off, I am pleased to report that my parents arrived this evening in Kanab in good order. Tonight we had a most civilized dinner at Escobar’s and the proceeded to Fredonia for a Best Friends softball game. You see, the regular season is over (I think—or is close anyway) but tonight was a make-up game that was rescheduled in light of last week’s thunderstorms. So we packed up the cars, the coolers, the lawn chairs, the parents, and headed over to the field. Jon has been a member of the team since early this season and has really been enjoying it. I’ve been to most of the games with him, in support of the endeavor. My presence as a sideline cheerleader and designated beer drinker ended tonight.

Tonight, I batted.

I would like to say that I was wooed like a celebrity to join the game but really it boiled down to the fact that the team has a shortage of women players and would have to forfeit if they didn’t have another female on the roster. So, in effect I was begged and then finally conceded.

Never played the sport, never really watched it either, so I was pretty far out of my comfort zone. Still, the team needed me, and while I warned them that they would be better off taking the out, they put me in anyway. As a result, I’m not sure who suffered more.

I was informed that I would play catcher and that I didn’t need to do anything but stand at home base, catch the missed pitches, and toss them back to the pitcher. Fair enough. A few throws back and forth and I had that bit down. Then came the batting.

As it turns out, we were first up to bat. Being the newbie, I was (thankfully) placed near the end of the list, but alas we made it almost through the cycle and I was up. I gingerly made my way up to home base and assumed the position. First pitch came, I balked. It fell beautifully in the center of the plate. Whoops. Steerike. The ump was trying to explain to me that meant I had 2 outs (because that’s the rules or something) but to me it was all gibberish. I nodded to him as if I understood and then turned from the ump and faced the pitcher again. He pitched. I swung. I made contact. I was shocked, and I paused. And then I ran for my life.

I’m pretty sure the infielder had already caught the ball and outed me, but I figured I’d put my heart into it. What happened next, I can’t really explain. I’m sure it happened in slow motion. A glorious skid to first base, you ask? Ummm....not so much. About three quarters of the way to first base I tripped over my two left feet, and proceeded to gacefully careen downward, and in an instant….I ate MAJOR SHIT.

I fell on my right side, mostly on my upper arm and shoulder, but managed to scrape off a layer of skin on both my right knee and elbow. You have to understand that this southwest sand diamond is not just regular soft dirt, to the contrary it’s this very unforgiving red sand and pebble graveyard. It was like skidding across a cheese grater on all fours. Yeah, pretty gross.

I gimped away to my lawn chair where my parents were stationed and grabbed my beer trying to shake off the sting. Blood was dripping dramatically from my knee and elbow. Strangely, it didn’t really hurt that badly, in fact it was numb. I’d just succeeded in removing a layer of my delicate epidermis, but oddly my ego was in more agony than my body.

Needless to say I was pretty horrified by my embarrassing mistake and declared myself out for the rest of the game. Jon took off his undershirt (a Nightside t-shirt, no less) and we sopped up the blood on my limbs. Our friend Rich retrieved a first aid kit from the concession stand and patched me up pretty well. I am pretty sore (my shoulder and arm are pretty wrecked, and I somehow pulled an ab muscle in the mayhem) however I am disappointed to report that all of that blood and gravel equates to some pretty benign looking scrapes on my knee and elbow. Oh well.

It will likely come as no shock that I have at this time retired from my softball career. I like to be good at everything, but I suppose that's not so realistic. But I must say I have a pretty great life. Great husband, great parents, great pets, great house, great job.

I guess you can’t have everything.

Eww

In our back yard just witnessed the dogs chase and stalk the biggest, grossest cockroach I've ever seen.

Awesome!

[sarcasm]

Mission Accomplished

So, we made it up to Salt Lake last weekend. We were there for about 24 hours total. We left Kanab Saturday morning and drove the 5 hour ride to SLC and went out and had Indian food with my dad. It was pretty good. Under new ownership from when we used to go there, but it seemed all right. Afterward, we went and hung out with my dad for a bit, then went to bed. My mom was in Vegas, so this was a dad-only visit. The next morning we got up, went and got my bike from our old neighbor’s house, loaded it up into the back of the Avalanche, and then drove it home. We had no problems getting it off the truck (I was extremely worried about it). So it’s here now and I can officially continue to be the big mama biker I am at heart.

Another funny story I had to jot down. When we arrived in Salt Lake at my parents’ house, Jon and I were pretty gross from traveling so we opted to shower before going out to dinner. Reminiscing back to days in our old house where you could not shower while watering the lawn, or washing clothes in the washer, and further you had to wait an hour or so after doing laundry before being able to get warm water for a shower, I asked my dad “So, can two people shower at the same time here?”, to which my father calmly replied, “Oh, we’ve never done that here”. I asked again, “but can two people do it at the same time” and he repeated himself, “we’ve never really done that here”. I finally realized he thought I was asking him if two people could shower together in the same shower. Jon and I both laughed and said, “No, no! We just mean can two separate showers run on the water heater at one time?”. We all had a nice chuckle. I’m not sure what my dad thought we were going to do, and whatever it was I’m sure it made him feel uncomfortable so it was pretty funny once we all realized what the confusion was over.

Needless to say, no romantic interludes were had in the shower at my parent’s house but it was a pretty funny misunderstanding.