Sidetracked Charley

Double Rainbow in Valley of the Little Coyotes Some days are diamonds, some days are stones Sometimes the hard times won't live me alone Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones Some days are diamonds, some days are stones John Denver My musical choices are very eclectic. Mother liked classical. Dad was a jazz man. I came of age in the time of rock and roll. And boy could I dance. In the Blue Ridge mountains I was introduced to folk music. I learned to dance to the music of all countries. But I fell in love early with what I call the lonely poets; Simon and Garfunkel, Carol King, Don McLean, Joan Baez, and yes, even John Denver.  I first heard Country Roads at a county fair in Elkins, West Virginia. He and I both moved back to the Rocky Mountains the same year.  I remember the words to all songs almost instantly. And I know where I was when I first heard that song. My jump drive in my pickup is loaded with everything from Adele to Kitaro to Nickelback. Th

Lotus Table and Stools I am deadline motivated. Working for an international construction company for almost a decade only cemented that habit. Lately I have tried to free myself of the tyranny of the deadly to do list. But whether I write it down on a note pad or my calendar or the book of lists it is still there in my mind. And I cannot ignore the end date. When assigned term papers during my days in academia I would rush out and choose a subject(s) and do all the research which in those days entailed filling out stacks of 3 x 5 cards. Then appearing to do nothing until three days before the paper was due. But in some recess of my mind I was writing and rewriting. During school summer was the time with no deadlines. Now it is winter which allows me to free float. Summer seems to be one deadline after another from getting the hoop house topped out, to the firewood ordered and stacked in the woodshed. Allowing myself to be a professional artist only made that worse.  In spit

I am always just too busy for somethings. And sometimes that works in my favor. When I re-injured my left shoulder recently I heard the voice of my late husband who constantly nagged me about having surgery. It did not matter that the surgeon said it possibly only make matters worse. And as I stated physical therapy did help a lot. I live in a community of very active individuals who hike and ski and snowboard and mountain climb. The also have knees replaced, ACL's surgically repaired, hip replacements, rotatory cuff repair. One of those friends was just released out of the fancy brace he has been wearing for almost two months following his shoulder repair. He is not very satisfied. In fact, he is wishing he didn't have it done. So I googled. And it seems in regard to shoulders of seniors there are many more doctors who prefer physical therapy over surgical alternatives. I was at the cusp of changing attitudes as regards spinal surgery. My cousin had three surgeries on

On Christmas Eve 2001 I was teaching an upper level semi-private ski lesson at Angel Fire Resort. Three and a half hours later I re-engaged in the world to find myself being driven down the mountain to the front emergency department. I was sitting up without neck support in the back of a Subaru on a bumpy road. I walked into the ski patrol office where I had to pee in a cup and complete an accident report. A report I got entirely wrong because it ended 20 minutes before the accident. We had to come back to the name and address part. I got the name off my name tag. They released me to drive home. To make a long story short I was hit at high speed by a Oklahoma resident who had drunk lunch, tossed into the air, and landed on my head. I suffered a CBT, three compressed disks in my neck, and a complex injury of the rotator cuff on my left shoulder. Guess what got the most attention once everyone decided I was not going to just die or go away? Even I paid the most attention to my

In an age when we have so many options for communication are we eliminating the biggest? Or at the least crippling it? I have both a cell phone and a landline. The landline has been the only published number until recently. I bought and use the cell phone primarily for travel and emergencies. I do not give that number out after I had a stalker abuse it. In what was a three year ordeal I discovered cell phone companies will not cooperate in anyway, what so ever, with law enforcement. I was doing a lot of fairs at the time and my landline message gave out my cellphone number. So I deleted that and changed my cell number. The cell phone company was rather pissy about that. They charged me and said I could never do that again. The state police tapped the landline and monitored the stalker's threats. I listed both my new cell and my landline on the do not call list so I was shocked when I began getting spam calls on both. Seems the federally maintained do not call lists were

If no one rejoices will the wildflower bloom again. In college and after, in the age of Vietnam, I had friends who were drafted. I fought against the policy of the draft. It was unequal. I fought against inequality in all its forms. One of my friends who was drafted wound up in the department which made dog tags, and he made me a set. Where religion was suppose to be he put reciprocitist. But that is not a religion, I protested in the thank you note. It should be, he wrote in return . And it is the one you are looking for. I was at that time, and perhaps still am, a student of religions. And I personally worshiped knowledge. I saw the nine floors of the university library as my church. I browsed the dictionary as a form of recreation so I looked up reciprocity. In psychology it is the theory that in social situations we pay back what we receive from others. Religions translate that as do unto others what they do unto you. New-agers say pay it forward. But a

Trailing Lantana???? There is an intern in the older episodes of Bones who calms himself by sprouting - or spewing - irrelevant facts. I can relate. I have been at the very least diverting myself of the horror of the news by googling otherwise unnecessary information. Yesterday I began on identifying the plants in my container gardens of which I am very well pleased. Last year I joined the Angel Fire Garden Club  and discovered small white flower which droops was not an adequate identification of my photos. Google Images, already a friend for drawing inspiration, and identification of birds to my yard, is now a reliable source for identification of flowers I bought last spring and forgot to note in my garden journal. Not just the name but also what I put in what pot. I wander through garden centers and pick flowers on the basis of color and texture and height. They all have those little identification stakes which once planted I promptly toss. They just do not look good in a c