Christmas, Poetry, The Right To Be Lazy and The Big Lebowski

Christmas was entertaining to say the least. At Liz's open house party, I reconnected with some old friends I had not seen in years: Mame and Mark Furhman. Then I had a long "book talk" with Margie, a friend who I don't normally have highly detailed conversations with even though we both work with Native Americans, but in different capacities. She's an attorney; I'm of course, a magazine editor. Turns out she is writing a book and so am I. Mine is a hybrid sort: part memoir, part self-help, creative, non-fiction, with community awareness and reflective prose. Her book centers around a Native American milieu but I can't remember if it was a mystery or murder/romance/ or epic journey. I was feeling slightly scattered that evening as I don't typically drink spiked egg nog.

On Christmas Eve day, my husband and I went Christmas pie shopping at Whole Foods and in earnest began our very late search for a Christmas tree. We stumbled upon Frehauf's http://fruehaufs.com/ and to our surprise we were given a $69.95, prefect tree for free! A homeless man and woman, reeking of alcohol, loaded it onto our car for $5.00.

Christmas morning we slept late since it was only my son Bryon & my husband, and me, waiting for our other son Aaron, his girlfriend Kristin and Liz and John. After I had stuffed the turkey and put it in the oven, I snowshoed with my neighbor Julia and her son Evan. We've had such beautiful snow, it could make you weep. Everyone arrived safely with a minor skirmish between the elements of snow and Liz & John's car which slid off the road and landed in a ditch. My husband and sons and John "man-handled" it out of the ditch and we all sat down to eat. We opened gifts and Aaron and Kristin gave me a lovely, ivory, wool shawl. Very warm & "poetic." We played a rowdy game of Apples to Apples and since it was all adults we allowed ourselves sardonic and sexual references. One play, when I was judge, entailed picking out the best definition in the pile of words each player had thrown down for the word "feminine." I chose "duct tape," which was thrown down by my husband. Of course, I did not know he had thrown it down. This embarrassed my sons immensely and made everyone else laugh. It is really a fun game.

The day after Christmas I snowshoed again with Julia and we went to the top of a foothill just up the road and from where you can see the Denver airport. It was sunny and warm and the snow was sparkling like what my boys when they were wee ones used to describe as "fairy-snow." Unfortunately, my love affair with the season ended that same evening when I found out what I had been waiting for the whole week: I did not win the Joy Harjo Poetry Contest! I was in the top 20 finalists out of over 900 entries, but I did not even get the honorable mention. However, being a finalist has its merits. I will be listed in the journal Cutthroat which sponsored the contest and on their website and have the possibility of being published. So I was a little sad. And a little happy that I made a ripple, however small, in the pool of 900 other poets.

And all of this rambling brings me to (I don't know why) the book my neighbor lent me, The Right to Be Lazy by Karl Marx's son Paul LaFargue. A slim little manifesto written in 1883, it eschews the "man as machine" way of life, the endless toil by the "masses" to hold up the wealthy. It shows quite clearly how even today the feudal system never really went away. It is actually relevant to the 21st century. However, it is easy to be lazy if you are a lucky person born into wealth. The rest of us must toil and remain loyal to our liberal convictions! I thought of all the plastic toys and items so many parents bought this Christmas for their children. Is this the reason for the relentless toil? I'm not buying toys any longer, but I can't justify laziness. And it differs from "resting," which we all need to do more of. But here is the text in its entirety, if you care to read it: http://www.marxists.org/archive/lafargue/1883/lazy/

After reading it, I decided I would just continue to watch The Big Lebowski and groove on that!

And lastly, I would be doing this post a disservice if I did not show off some lovely photos by Scott Pope, my hiking companion of many years. These photos, I hope, will grace my book. They are of Shelf and Solitude Lakes. Enjoy!

Goofy T-Day pics

Perpetual late-poster. Here are some pics of us being goofy at Thanksgiving, courtesy of Liz who cooked EVERYTHING!! The rest of us played.

The Lovely Single Digit Temperaures

When three of us planned our first snowshoe outing of the season, we had no idea we'd be venturing out into a dry cold of 7 degrees. I was tired having been at The Lighthouse Writer's party down in Denver the night before. Though I don't normally drink because of my many pharmaceuticals, I did have a half glass of white wine. There was great catered food, good company, some delightful poetry and fiction to hear, and some "lullaby" acoustic music being played by two heartbreakingly young men who sold me two of their CD's for $10.

Then I had to drive all the way through the foothills, up the canyon in rushing snow that rendered visibility nearly impossible. Needless to say, I was beat.

The next morning, I rolled over in bed & looked out the window to see a gloomy, heavily clouded morning and snow still falling. I groaned and rolled back over willing myself to go back to sleep. It was only 5 am. I got up though because once I wake, I usually can't fall back to sleep. I had already prepared my snowshoeing backpack, clothes, etc. so, I wrote in my memoir and waited for it to stop snowing. Of course, it didn't. "No one will want to go snowshoeing," I reassured myself. But I knew I had to call Mary Jean just to make sure. To my surprise, she was perky and ready to go, having been up since 6 am. But we decided to wait and go at noon. I crawled back into bed & was just dozing off again when I heard my friend Barb pounding up the front deck stairs, calling out, "I'm here!" And she came plummeting into the room, coffee cup in hand, like the old days when we'd be ready to take off for Moab. She plopped herself down next to me and we talked and talked and finally I felt my limbs responding to her energy and I quickly dressed. Once in Estes, we stopped at a new store, Estes Park Mountain Shop www.estesparkmountainshop.com which had the best prices I've ever seen. I bought a much-needed fleece headband for $4.99, Smart Wool® long ski socks that did not fall down in my boots, a powerbar and packets of hand and foot warmers.

By the time we got up to Bear Lake, the four of us were becoming more and more wary of the weather. Why were there only a handful of cars in a parking lot that is normally so full you have to be creative to find a spot? When we came to the first lake, Nymph, of course we knew why: it was 7 degrees and my face mask had frozen into a hard, scratchy lump from my breath, the hose to my Camelback® water supply was filled with ice. Thank goodness I had brought a thermos full of hot tea. But, as always, battling the cold was well worth the effort. We got up to Dream Lake and there was no wind, only the eternal stillness of everything heavy with white, perfect powder snow. My feet were working well, all of our cheeks were flushed and Scott grinned down at his three women making off-color jokes about putting my water hose up inside me to warm it up. Then when Mary Jean & Barb pushed the hose up inside my fleece shirt so it wouldn't crack, they rested their frigid hands against my warm ribs which made me shout. All the way down we rattled on about the next trip up here which will be this coming weekend and this time on back-country skiis. And I will most definitely bring my skins along so I can glide down a hill without fear until I've gotten my "snow legs" back. The epiphanies here are simple and the same every year: once you're out in it, you're hooked for good. You're good to go. You're in the winter groove and you're loving it—even the single digit temps!

Full Moon & Snow & Brain Surgery

All good things are happening in this opening of December. The full moon slid along a pale sapphire-blue sky at 6 a.m. and the deep snow invited me to step out and play. No matter that it is bitter cold. Last night I called my "play" friend, Barb, to tell her I was standing in the living room, no lights on and the moon was so bright you could see every tree's shadow and I wanted to rush out in it like I would have when I was 23. Barb exclaimed, "Oh, you sound so good!" I guess I have been so consumed with writing my memoirs and focusing on all my little disasters like going to the neurologist that I sometimes forget how stunning winter is in Colorado. I can't miss out. I'm definitely going to snowshoe this afternoon and absolutely this weekend!

*******

The scary visit with Dr. Leehey was not so scary. I am on a new drug therapy until I can get in to start the process of deep brain stimulation (DBS) surgery. I started a dopamine agonist called Mirapex. It has already allowed me to reduce my carbidopa/levodopa by 400 mg.!!! Additionally, Dr. Leehey said I was an excellent candidate for DBS. I am young, healthy, strong, with no cognitive impairment. I have to be screened though, which will include testing for cognitive impairment. When I asked if I would have to do trigonometry my support group (which consisted of my mom, my friend Liz and my husband, Tony) in unison roared out: "Oh..she's real cognitively impaired," or some such outburst which momentarily threw the good doctor off track. She's very prim and not used to such rowdiness. My group was also complaining about my weight and Dr. Leehey, who is a pale bone herself, assured them that the typical DBS patient regains at least 10 pounds. That extra poundage would put me in size eight pants, thank you very much.

*******

It was a joy to have my mom here. She is like my older sister Laurel and never stops moving. She cooked every meal, cleaned the kitchen continually, did all the grocery shopping. In turn, I took her to her beloved breakaway Anglican Church, St. Francis up in Estes Park and listened to her opinions on gay marriage and reverse racism. I will let the reader guess as to where she stands on those particular subjects. Needless to say, the discussions were heavily disputed by my husband & I and the conversation ended with no resolution. Thus, we are a microcosm of what has been happening in our country. Some issues will never be resolved.

But this is a bright blue day and I am feeling happy. Namaste!