Sidetracked Charley

Walking the high bridge Time Magazine in the mid 1980's had a lead article on stress and consequences of it. Some research facility had assigned points to various events in life; so many points for losing a job, moving, getting a divorce, etc.  Those were the big ones.  At the time the list appeared I had been moved by the company I was working for, was going through filing for divorce from an alcoholic husband, visiting a dying parent in a hospital, while temporarily living with my mother facing the eminent death of her husband. The last was not on the list but should have been. Oh, and I was less than a year clean and sober and had a sponsor who said I should not be doing any of those things. If you tallied up just those life events on the list I should have checked myself into a mental institution. Or committed suicide. But I come from a long line of troupers. We keep on keeping on. And are the perfect model of decorum while doing it. There was a t-shirt I saw during th

I am tired of being adult.  A combination of things has conspired to make me have to be on my best of behaviors entirely too long. I have had to act proper in public, be nice on the internet, bite my tongue too often, stay within my budget, make all appointments, keep the house presentable, and eat all the right things which means cook. I told my sister just last night I wish my community had just one drive through restaurant. Just one so I could drive through and order all the things I know I cannot eat while honking at people for being too slow in front of me and playing very loud music with the windows rolled down. I cannot afford the speeding ticket but I would love to race from one end of the town to the other (a whole mile) and flip the finger at any slowpokes who got in my way. While out on the distant plains with a long standing friend we both broke down in hysterical giggles. She had been adult for too long too. Fortunately there was nobody around unless a dron

I began going back to Las Vegas after my head injury because it has the Social Security office. And I hated going to Taos so much I even went to Santa Fe medical appointments via Las Vegas. I came in from the Mora direction and then had to find myself to I 25, which is not clearly marked. And Social Security is hidden behind Walmart. So I came to use the term lost again in Las Vegas. Given my wanderings around it would seem I could have found everything by now. But when you are being led by a camera and interesting old buildings I am just thankful I am not hopelessly lost. I have found the important places like the Castaneda Hotel by the railroad. The train station looks new and not what I saw from the train. Need to google that. Glad they are renovating the hotel. And I found Highlands University because they were filming Longmire just across the street. I found Luna University because I was looking for a background casting call for Longmire.  Found this little c

Once it has been opened, you know it will not keep . I think I heard that in a movie pertaining to wine or other alcoholic spirits. I have used it to refer to dark chocolate bars and from time to time ice cream. But lately it seems to mean memories. Open as the first rush of remembering, and keep as closing them back off again. And it is not just about Las Vegas, New Mexico, but also the Bruce years. He died in October 2015 which did not bring those memories rushing back. But a mutual good friend has been helping his daughter sort through stuff, boxes and boxes of stuff. Dianne recently brought me a couple boxes of things she thought I might want to see. Things Sue did not want. Memories she did not want to open. I am at this moment not that sure I wanted to either. I totally understand why Sue escaped back to the coast fast. Today is sometimes only safe because we have closed off yesterday. But the Bruce years were a significant part of my life. Bruce introduced me to John Ste

Castaneda Hotel awaiting renovation December 24, 2001 I was hit by a drunken skier while teaching a lesson at Angel Fire Resort. Prior to that day I was known for my memory. It took me a while to totally know the depths of the loss that day. I was thrilled at first that I had only lost three and a half hours of time. Later, when I passed the short term memory tests, I was elated. Except for not always knowing the right word at the right time my mind seemed fine. But recovery from a closed brain trauma is a very complicated thing. To stay sane I concentrated on the positive, and practiced what I did not want to lose. Unfortunately I was not really aware of what I had lost. Largely I do not miss what is not in my head any more. At least until I am confronted by friends or circumstances with the reality of what is gone. Last weekend I was in Las Vegas, New Mexico with an old friend. She was driving and we went to places in Las Vegas I did not remember. She talked of adventures th

The time has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things. Of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings. And typically, as tradition dictates, resolutions for the new year. I don't do resolutions. I have called them commitments and acknowledgments but I seem to avoid the avoid the world resolutions. It reminds me of court room dramas - It is hereby resolved . . . Resolution is defined as 1) a firm decision to do or not do something or 2) the action of solving a problem, dispute or contentious matter.  I think the words firm and action get in my way. A resolution just seems negative like stop biting your nails, stop drinking, or lose weight. Even phrased in the positive (I will do ten planks a day) has negative connotations. And half the time as you are writing them down you know you will not keep them. Not for a full year. No way. And that is assuming nothing gets in the way like a broken leg which makes planks impossible. Or a definite nail biting situatio

Searching for a way down I don't believe my cat thinks about how he is going to get down when he goes up. Maybe that is why you always hear those tales of firemen rescuing cats out of trees. I have heard the explanation about the direction of their claws but one of my expert tree climbing cats always came down tail first rather like us humans repelling off a cliff. Thicke is great at getting up. He mostly jumps to his position of the panels. Balancing act But once up there he seems to be mostly looking for an alternate way down. A way which does not involve jumping down to the mat table from where he ascended. I can understand that. Down is always more scary than up. I will climb a ladder easily enough and then stand near the top and ponder the first step back down. I tell people I am afraid of heights. Inherited it from my mother. But that is really not true. I walk to the tops of mountains in search of the best camera shot. I stand on overlooks, sometimes

For most of the world the title would mean climbing a mountain or selling their home and becoming a vagabond or getting married, yet again. For me it means pushing the envelope just beyond my comfort zone. I have almost all my life (except for one crazy year upon graduation from college) been the person who did not believe in burning bridges. Never know when you might want to cross them again. But I have always believed in strategic retreats to high ground or safe caves. Retreats are not as easy in a small community as they were in my moving around days. I find myself rather firmly rooted to my spot on the mountain. So retreat is to my studio or behind my camera on in front of my computer. I am not totally convinced the computer is a retreat, but that is a subject for another blog on another day. Retreat is closing myself off. And this year is about opening myself up. The year 2015 was about finally getting myself free of a toxic friend, bringing a new cat into my life, and re