Pivotal Moments

It is a great feeling when you can truly say:

I'm not sorry I met you.
I'm not sorry it's over.
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say.

That is all.

Horseshoe Mountain in the Bag, Plus My First Snow Kitchen!

That's us at the top, squinched up against the wall of some ramshackle, falling-down hut trying not to get too pounded by the howling wind, since the ridge wasn't super wide and true to Colorado form the leeward edge/side was a huge, scary cornice. The wind was strong, and it was COLD as it screamed up from the valley from Leadville, but other than that the weather and conditions were pretty idyllic.

I am trying to get into the Colorado Mountain Club's basic mountaineering school in order to facilitate my summer Ptarmigan Ridge traverse plans and also to raise my coolness quotient a bit--no one can deny that a girl who knows how to wield an ice tool and tie a bowline blindfolded in 10 seconds flat is pretty sexy, after all. But I am a little late to the party, and there are all these hoops and prereqs to jump through first. I think my waiver from trekking school should be granted, but I also have to go on two qualifying outings to prove that I have the mettle to hang. Thus, I pleaded my case onto this Horseshoe climb last Sunday and this coming Saturday.

9 of us gathered at the (apparently) renowned restaurant The Fort, where you can find all sorts of western game and other traditional fare for a pretty penny. We sorted ourselves into carpools and headed out the 285 to South Park, which is not a town like the cartoon (that would be Fairplay, where the creators grew up) but a huge kind of grassland surrounded by mountains. There are lots of these features called parks here; a Middle Park, Winter Park, etc. We drove as far as the road in would allow, which was 1.5 miles shy of the trad trailhead. Which meant that I think by the time all was said and done we did around 16 miles and quite a bit of elevation gain too--and for 202 feet that thing wasn't quite a 14er! Rats. Oh well. It is still an iconic mountain that is quite distinct from just about anywhere in South Park. Can you guess why they call it Horseshoe? (Blogger is not playing well with others at the moment--I may have to add images later)
Update: here it is!:

Apparently you can do a bunch of 14ers in one trip here--the only other I remember by name is Sherman, and Cameron which doesn't count because apparently there has to be a loss of 300 feet between peaks to count as separate peaks. It was harder than I thought it would be, until I realized I wasn't eating enough and I insisted on eating half of my sammich even though we were still about an hour away from the summit. I felt a LOT better and started climbing better too. The snowshoes stayed on the packs even though there were plenty of spots where we were postholing up past our knees and the depth hoar was making me use bad swear words, but the cuts of the old mining road we were following were always just up ahead in sight, so we gritted them out.


Most of the way we were pretty sheltered from the wind, and I didn't realize how lucky we were until we climbed up high enough that we weren't protected anymore and felt like I was leaning at an angle as I slogged up the last mile or so of trail. Not surprisingly, the top was pretty much bare rock/talus/shale on the windward side, and I got to see up close what the avy people mean by the term "wind loading". I don't remember the exact statistic, but Colorado gets significantly more snow built up from wind than actual precip.

We stopped at the hut at the top for a quick bite, then down again before anyone got too cold. I wanted to stop and sign the register and take more shots from the summit, but my fingers felt like they were being crushed in a vice just from a few gloveless moments in that wind and I just wanted to keep moving. We took a slightly different way down, which included a nice glissade that was gentle enough to not require an ice axe--really fun! Once we got down to the main road section I put my head down and trekked, I get barnsour when I'm close to the car, yes I do. Plus the pads on my big toes were beginning to hurt--it was a long way to hike in snow in feet and boots not yet broken completely in. But I love my ZOMG Bootz!™ Ditto my brother's Patagonia DAS parka and expedition weight balaclava.

The day before was the first winter camping class outing. We schlepped out to some place called East Portal south of Nederland by a big huge railroad tunnel. Nothing remarkable except it felt like it took forever and the guy sitting next to me was possessed of a quite heady bouquet of halitosis and BO that almost made my eyes water and definitely wonder if I could get away with cracking a window on the grounds with windy road was making me carsick.

There were quite a few of us there, and despite all of us marching up and down and all around a large, flat-ish clearing several times, we couldn't get our compressed snow platform to set up very well, even after heading over to watch a presentation on the wherefores and why-nots of tent pitching and deadmen. Still, with the guidance of Instructor Dave we planned a simple straight-ish trench with a counter on one side and seating on the other. While half of us dug it out, the other half of us tried to excavate blocks of depth hoar, which if you don't know depth hoar is this kind of faceted snow that does. not. adhere. to itself, making sculpting, building, or snowballs a lot harder. Plus Dave told us to take our snowshoes off and of course we were still postholing all over the place and trying not to lose our balance as we kept sinking into the sugar snow carrying our loads of snow blocks on our shovels.

We managed enough to build a short windbreak, and finally settled down to fire up the stoves and make our lunches. My little food pouch cozy with the orange flames was a huge hit with the instructors, as was the Mary Jane's Farm. Then we learned how to melt snow without burning it (which is possible, shit you not, if you just put a pile of snow in your pot and stick it over the burner.) Then after what seemed an interminable time of trotting around looking at other groups' kitchens, we were trotted over for one final exercise-- finding out what happens when you drop your stove in the snow. A guy with an MSR Reactor got his stove lit first--me with my little Jetboil came in second--we could have taken Reactor Guy if we better understood it was time trial to get the things lit and not ready to cook a meal. Oh well. The need for a redundant fire source was a point well taken.

Health Insurance

Officially sucks the root, sayeth me. As a long-time patient who fortunately almost never has to deal with using it, and now as a practitioner who's gearing up for all the super fun times to be had waiting out the sign-up processes, figuring out the stupid quirks of individual insurers, and the non-stop hilarity that ensues from having to submit your claims 2-4 times, simply because you are an LAc and not an MD, DO or PA.

I have a lot of potential posts about healthcare policy, reform and the like, for later, once I get the practice somewhat going and plans for PA school well under way. For now, I'm feeling the resentment of being relegated to everyone's secondary or even tertiary tiers of care networks, which basically consist of discounting your fees and requiring so much submission of superfluous paperwork you wonder if it's worth it. Yeah, I'm working on my more long-range plans to get my own self-paying patients in my door, but that will take time--right now, referrals will only come from DPM if I can bill directly (no dice with submitting your own superbill, sadly). Some systems of care leave us out entirely (I'm looking in Medicare's direction, although the Hinchey Bill is apparently up for consideration again, and since we have fewer or at least a different assortment of douchebags in Congress, it might finally get passed this time around. I don't feel like getting into a cost/benefit analysis of joining a system that is presently collapsing under its own weight right now as it is nearly 2AM and I'm tired, but in terms of access and parity this would be a huge boon).

I'm harumphing off to bed now. Besides scheduling another job interview for next week and figuring out how to fill out 45-page insurance network applications, and writing more marketing copy than you can shake a checkbook at, I have to figure out where I can get a PPD test on the cheap, and get all my warmest gear together for tomorrow's snow camping outing. Cross your fingers the mild weather (by mild I mean no lower than 0º and no wind at night) holds! Pictures and trip report to follow, I promise.

Winter School, Part 1

It is a strange thing to go from knowing your local roads and trails (at several levels of zoom!) so intimately to knowing almost nothing, and almost no one to show them to you. I'm not even sure where all the different areas of trails are, which makes research a titch more challenging. I'm slowly acquiring an assortment of guidebooks and topos (did you remember to put some in my crampon care package, James?!), but I'm realizing that winter throws in another wrench of unknowns and potential danger factors I know nothing about being a spoiled, SoCal princess for lo these many years. Even my time living up in San Fran was more straightforward than this. I can't tell you how many times I've found a loop that sounds exciting and challenging and has everything I'm looking for in terms of distance, climbage and freedom from hordes of stupid people, only to realize... holy shit, that there might be some avalanche terrain. And/or what do I do if weather comes in that makes it so hard to find my route down I don't?

So, I signed myself up for a beginner's avy class. The AIARE level one class from CMS required backcountry skis which I don't have [yet], so I went for the offering from the Colorado Mountain Club instead. Ethan and Ben from the Colorado Avalanch Info Center gave two days of outstanding classroom lectures on snow science and how to spot trouble spots, and then we all headed out to Jones Pass to try our skills at digging snow pits and performing rescues, 'cuz we learned that by the time SAR comes to dig you out you're probably dead, even if you survived the initial slide. You have to rely on your mates, which means be extra, super thoughtful about just who you venture out into winter backcountry adventures. We set out from our cars and tested our transceivers to make sure they all transmitted and received, and then set about practicing locating transceiver duffel bags the instructors hid for us, including scenarios where we didn't know how many burials there were.

Next we got into two large groups and took turns coordinating a rescue with multiple unknown burials, only this time we had to get out our probes and shovels and dig the duffels out. We spread ourselves out in a line from one end of the bottom deposition zone to the other and started hiking uphill, looking for signals and calling out numbers to the leader. I got lucky and happened to be standing practically right on top of a burial where I started, but it took at least 15 minutes to find the actual location with the probe and then dig it out from at least 4 feet of snow. It was easier on us, too, since the snow we were digging out hadn't actually slid and required minimal chopping with the shovels to get it out. One of our instructors said that in his Level 2 class they actually buried his instructors (with radios and avalungs of course) to simulate the rescue. The rest of our group dug out the other burial and off we went to dig a snow pit.

Snow pits give you and idea of how the snow is layering, and how well those layers are sticking together. In practice, if you were worried about a slide you'd find a slope similar to the one you were going to be crossing, dig out a cross-section of it and then locate the hard and soft layers, and test whether or not they sheared when you put different weights and directions of force on them. Our slope turned out to be fairly stable, except in the tree shadow. Afterward we had fun jumping on our Rutschblock test column to fill it all in so as not to make a hazard for snowmobilers, which weren't too much of a plague that day but ugh. Do not like.

And now? I feel like I know just enough to be really wary of where I go, because I know just how quickly ugly things can happen. But I also know better how to keep myself out in the first place. And to make sure I take competent and well-practiced buddies out with me!

Next week, I learn to build snow caves and kitchens and all kinds of cool shit you can only do when camping in the snow at the CMC Winter Camping School. W00t!

Sugar Lumps!!!

Fucking outstanding.

Great Shao Yang Winter of '09

At least, everyone here says it's atypical and ridiculous, what with record heat alternating with record freezes. I last left off kvetching about flying to LA. It has now been 3 consecutive weekends I have been home, and not had to take a class or go to a seminar. It has been glorious.

LA turned out well--Steve picked up Mikel and me in his awesome White Maurauder® and after a lovely gorge-fest at Tacos Plus we set about trying to make sure we had memorized all the exams for all the body parts. Mikel's friends collected him around 9, I got my hard drive back from Karen around 10, and Steve and I stayed up until nearly 3 studying like fiends and cursing ourselves for waiting until the last minute. But it went fine--the written exam was painless, and the practical nearly so, even being as punchy as we were. With plenty of time left until the mandatory party, we headed out to the beach and went for a walk in the 85º sun, and hatched a plan to go to the trapeze school on the pier when I come out in May for the final NBAO board exam. After the party we hiked off some of the meal at Fryman Canyon and caught a spectacular sunset on the way back to the westside for a quick dinner at Terried before dropping me back off at LAX.

It was clear and not too cold when I got in and drove home. Imagine my surprise when I woke up 5 hours later to 4 inches of fluffy dry powder all over the world! I got to shovel the sidewalks and everything. But it was beautiful--the snow settles onto the branches of the leafless trees like delicate lace and it is so, so quiet. Within 2 days it was back up in the 50's, was in the 60-70 range through the middle of the week before plunging down a yawning gradient into highs around freezing. But that week was amazing, besides enabling me to get out the Chacos and tshirts and gad about relatively naked. It also enabled a road ride in nothing but shorts and jersey and a perfect day out at RMNP. No wind, temps in the 40's, bright, bright sun, not even that many people out on our trail--pretty near perfect. I'll update with pics when I get them transferred over to the new machine--the other exciting thing which happened in LA was the death of my logic board signaling the call to the next Macbook.

I also managed to get in a trip up to Brainard to poke around but didn't end up getting much further than Brainard Lake, owing to a late start and taking the hilliest and longest route to get there. Once I started back on what I thought was the CMC snowshoe trail, only to realize after a bit that I was going in the complete opposite direction of where I wanted to go and the signed snowshoe trail I was on was not on the shitty trail map I carried. I backtracked to the dam where picking it up should have been obvious, and no--the map was unequivocally shitty. Like a good little orienteer I crossed the dam, found the parking lot on the other side and picked up the trail there. I never did find the CMC cabin, although I suspect if I'd only followed my first return trail further I'd have run right into it. I've got to get some nav worthy topos, that's all there is to it. And next time I would prefer to take the easy trail out so I could have more time to push further back to maybe even Blue Lake. Otherwise you're in the trees the whole time until you get to Brainard Lake when the terrain opens up a little and lets you see some pretty great views of the peaks around you.

Walking on frozen lakes is a trip. Skating on them is a trip too, or it is to someone who grew up without even an ice rink around for hundreds of miles. My friend Garrett took me out to Evergreen last week though and showed me how it was done. Garrett is from Rhode Island and has been skating practically since he could walk. It was a beautiful night--not too cold, no wind, but the ice was pretty rough, making things interesting. Still, I did reasonably well for it only being my 2nd time ever. I held on to Garrett for the first lap or two, we tried moving over to other sections that looked glassy but really, really weren't, and finally back on the main space I wobbled along by myself and only fell once. To my embarrassment, however, I noticed that after a few laps I could not keep my ankles from collapsing, no matter how hard I concentrated, and I kept dragging my toes which prompted a frantic kind of running step to keep ahead of my momentum and not go pitching head first onto the ice. Garrett agreed I was probably getting tired, and we headed for the warming house to sit down. Right before we got onto the ramp I went down again, this time twisting my knee, which still kinda hurts. It's been a long time since I tried to do something to do something so totally new that I hopelessly suck at it, and will until I develop that unique balance and muscle memory. But it was fun and I want to go again. And not that I didn't before, but I will really never view a hockey game in quite the same way again!

In Which I Whine About Work Travel

I know it's almost over. I know this weekend is almost the last of my ortho commitments, and that if I pass I only have one more trip to LA to pass the board exam and it's done. I know that going to the Whole Foods orientation in 2 weeks in San Fran is probably pointless and I won't go, likely. I know that the week-long training in NADA certification in Dallas (or NY, I guess--I know people there now!) will be a huge benefit to my practice, especially if I only limit my practice to Denver Pain for the foreseeable future (and of course I'm not--there's a sleep therapy gig in Boulder I've applied for, as well as work with the Mile High Council on Drug/Alcohol Abuse, trying to get an Acupunks-w/o-Borders-style vet clinic going here in CO, etc.) I even know I'm racking up a shit-ton of frequent flyer miles I can count toward a really fun trip somewhere next year.

I'm just sick of having to up and leave and I want to go out and play in my new adopted state with other people who live here. Especially since we're finally having spates of days with highs in the 40's!

That is all. Back to the inclinometers and P4 reports I go.

Jon Swift's Best-of-08 is out!

This will keep you entertained until at least 2010, I promise.

And while you're at it, please send him your votes for best humor blog. And it's not too late to help out Driftglass beat out Anchoress (who declares Bush was right about Gitmo, among other nuggets of awesome wingnuttery) in the Best Individual Blog category.

Hurry, voting ends Tuesday, Jan 13!

I Can't Believe It's Not The Onion!

Joe the Erstwhile Plumber is heading off to Israel to be a war correspondent! Yes, you read that correctly. The mission? To let Israel's "average joes tell their story."

And the Right wonders why it's sliding into total fucking irrelevance. Other than not knowing how to do it in the Facebook or the Twittering, that is.

Those Weren't the Days

So I'm of the so-called weaker sex, except that as a modern Amurikin girl I play as hard as any man and even my girly "women's work" would have a man's ass draggin' by the end of the day, thus men invent labour-saving devices like sewing machines and E-Z Shift transmissions so I can still be a weak (read: sexxeh!) chic and have enough energy left over after my grueling girly day to still keep myself beautiful! Or something like that. Note well the interchangeable use of terms "girls" and "women" while curiously "men" are never "boys".

Oh, my sides!!!

The Year Ends Quietly and Slips Away

I've posted a few times with retrospective-ish thoughts on the progress of this last year, so I won't belabour the point. Even so, a lot has been surfacing for me the last two weeks--I guess because it's finally been a little quiet. All the stuff, the reactions, the emotions that I shoved to the back of my consciousness because I didn't have time to deal with them because we were Moving On™ have been quietly pushing themselves to the forefront and demanding their moment of attention.

So beyond the obvious of what a year of incredible accomplishment it has been, it has also been one of great sadness for me. I don't think it really hit home until I got, well, home, and my grandmother and grandfather were both glaringly absent. Especially my grandfather, because my grandmother had been so withdrawn and frail for the last 2 years of her life. But in a way, my grandmother too, because she told my father before she died that she didn't want a service. He honored her wishes, but it was hard to not have some way to ritualize saying goodbye and acknowledging the whole of her life, either. And then there was Gibson. What can I say but I my heart aches missing his sweet face and six-toed feet clicking their way through our tiny home?

There were other heartbreaks and disappointments along the way too, which I didn't get to grieve or resolve because, well, it's complicated. And I had board exams to pass and a life to pack up and plunk down in a new place. I'm just finding it hard to be fully at peace about it without at least looking at what is gone, let alone acknowledging that I had to say goodbye to some things way too soon, way before my heart was ready, way before it could accept that some things will never change or be what you want them to be no matter how much wishing and hoping you twist yourself up in doing. It helps me understand those realities intellectually, which I grasped nearly instantly, but it doesn't make me feel any less sad, and the sadness can't be gone over or under or around, only passed straight through.

This has been a year of great happiness too--I saw a 4-year project of incredible effort and endurance culminate in a master's degree and the crushing of my state and national board exams. I've met some incredible new people and reconnected with countless old ones I thought I'd never see or hear from again. I live in view of some of the most beautiful mountains and wide open skies on earth. For the first time in almost 20 years I get to see my brother nearly every day and be a part of his life. I finally found a field I love that helps people and communities heal, whether I end up going to PA school or not (Dude, I KNOW.) And all of these things are in the end separate from the sad and setback things. It is not a zero-sum game. It is possible for my heart to exult and grieve, to love and to lose at the same time. Indeed, it is the only way it has ever known how to be.

Occasionally you listen to an old song and the lyrics jump out in bold relief at you because they ring so true. Here's one from Kate Wolf sung by the incomparable Nanci Griffith and Emmylou Harris--which I particularly love these days because I am at a literal and figurative crossroads, looking simultaneously backward and forward. I am far enough along in life that I have a bona fide past while still having a bright and promising future, and because I am literally on a Great Divide mountainside where the rivers indeed change directions. I keep the last stanza close when the sadness and uncertainty seem intolerable and endless:

The finest hour that I have seen
Is the one that comes between
The edge of night and the break of day
It's when the darkness rolls away

All of the lyrics are here.


This second one is about the return of light after darkness, covered by Nina Simone whose styling suits my bittersweetness.


Enjoy. And gratitude to all who have made this year what it was for me, for showing me all you have shown me and taught me all you have taught me. Mahalo to you and to 2008.

Project Tamale '08

15lbs chicken, 10lbs carne, 32oz mole paste, 400oz crushed tomatoes, 60oz ea of black beans and corn, 22.5lbs masa harina, 96oz shortening, 320oz vegetable broth, 60oz corn husks, 15lbs cheese, plus amounts of carrots, roast peppers, onions, squash, and red/green food coloring to dye the raffia strips that tie it all together, so to speak=about 400 tamales. New this year were vinyl gloves from my med kit so that my hands weren't also dyed red and green for a week.

This year I really, really tried to find local and organic everything--did reasonably well, considering I had no idea where to go for anything. The project completely overwhelmed my tiny kitchen. I listened to endless amounts of NPR. Even the boring BBC stuff. If it was on last week, I heard it. Several times.

At least Zooey had some fun.
And I was able to use the garage for extra cold storage since it was so stinkin' cold--seriously, it was colder outside than inside the fridge. Once I get them all distributed, I'll stash a bag in my freezer for myself--it should be about 4 months or so before I'm able to look at them again. I know I say it every year, but next time I am seriously recruiting help. The happy looks I get when I give them take some of the weary ache out of my neck and shoulder muscles too...

See the whole process, including Zooey's invaluable oversight here.

Project Tamale Update

The finish is in sight! 120 veggie and 180 chicken so far, likely 130-150 carne by the time I have to cram some clothes into a suitcase and light out and hop a plane tomorrow to Sacto for the family holiday thing. Pictures to follow soon.

Conchords News!

New season starts in just 30-something days!! To herald, there's a lip dub video submission contest, and the best will be cut together and aired on the show. Here's one submission I found on Youtube:

I think his Jemaine is a dead ringer, don't you?

I Wanted the Opposite of LA and I Got It

I'm impressed that at 2:35 in the afternoon I still have ice on the indoor side of my windows. Allegedly out at DIA the windchill is supposed to give one the impression of having been knocked out and kidnapped to some undisclosed location in Saskatchewan. It was nearly 14 below when I went to bed and according to the news it got down to 20 below. It's in the mid-teens at the moment. It's a record! Yesterday was a record too! And I was here!! We are supposed to get a teensy bit of snow tonight, possibly teensy bits every night through Thursday. The highs are never expected to much top 32. But at least the sun is shining bright! Ahem.

I guess indoors slaving over a hot kitchen making 300 tamales is as good a place as any to be this week, no?

The rest of the park at sunset series can be seen here--taken when it was a balmy 41 out. I hear that's shorts and teeshirt weather in Antarctica...

Thank-You to Gabby Johnson, For Saying What Needed to Be Said

I could watch this all day. Via Petulant at Shakesville who came up with the best-titled post ever.

To see the original song from the Liam Show and one of the most incredible homages to shoes ever click here.

Rocky Mtn Rox

At least I think it does. It hinted at scenery and vistas--Dr. Ken swore up and down on a stack of Bibles it was there, but I kind of had to take his word for it. But hey--his word is good, no reason not to assume he's not good for it. And what little we were able to see when the snow and wind calmed down was compelling enough to make me drive straight home and buy an annual pass to find out more. Okay, not quite straight home--after the mandatory pint of beer and plate of eats, then.

Oh....speaking of eats...my belly feels vacuous and is making me feel a bit peevish. I'll be right back.




So much better! I continuously underestimate the power of low blood sugar to make one feel crappy. And may I gush for a moment about how happy I am that it is pomegranate season? I don't care if pomegranate-flavored/juiced foods are so totally last year, it will always be one of my favorite fruits, filled with those succulent garnets as they are. Tonight they went on my barley and wild rice pilaf. For the last 3 days they've gone in kale salads. Tomorrow, I don't know. I need to roast the butternut squash I bought last week, make pumpkin bread, and shop/cook all the tamale fillings and sauces. I know! Maybe I'll make pomegranate molasses and incorporate it into the sweet tamales...and I'm totally blogging that stuff this year--way, WAY too much of a 3-4 day process not to.

So yeah, RMNP. About the same distance from Denver as some of the trails in the Angeles high country, of which I thought nothing when going for a hike or monster training run. I find that I'm needing to put distances in terms of LA equivalents because everything feels so much further here I find I don't want to drive--nah...too far! Drive to Boulder for a road ride? Or even the foothills for a 10k? I'm having a hard time, but Wash Park is beginning to get very tiresome. Anyway.

I set out early after getting way too little sleep staying out late and Craig and Jen's holiday sweater party. But it was worth it to catch the sunrise hitting the Flatirons--holy nature show! And it was already in the high 30's in Boulder. As I rolled through Lyons, however, the bright sun disappeared. As I climbed higher still, so did the mountains. As I got to Estes, I could see furious maelstroms of snow blown off the Divide whipping around the ridgelines. On getting out of the car I discovered the wind was an icy knife as well--nothing but the snow pants I haven't worn since 2000 would do, and on they went. I really, really need better true coldweather gear, btw.

Ken and I set out and ditched my car at the visitor's center, which was near empty. Apparently in the height of summer you have to be in by 6AM or so if you want a spot. Which, I guess if you're going to be bagging peaks or otherwise climbing up high you need to be up and below treeline by the time the storms come in around 1, so... After a brief start up the trail we decided to go back and retrieve the snowshoes. Which turned out to be the call.

Fortunately, we stayed in among the trees most of the time and there wasn't much wind. I was temporarily fooled into thinking the temp wasn't so bad. Ha! As soon as we got to the frozen lake, I discovered my folly. We paused long enough for Ken to point out some of the ice hanging off some frozen slabs in the rock above us where ice climbers go to play. It's still wild to me how gigantic icicles can get, or that gushing, unruly waterfalls can be tamed into silence when they freeze solid. We pushed on toward Black Lake. I began to feel sparkly, either from not enough food or altitude or both. We got close to the lake, but decided to turn around (ok, I decided, Ken kept shrugging good-naturedly and saying he was fine with "whatever") when it got too blustery--the kind that stings your face as the snow scours off the top layer of skin.

We headed back, and found the downed tree on which we rested before, to eat lunch. Ken brought hot chocolate. I have GOT to replace my thermos--I have no idea where it went but a thermos of hot tea or soup or something is mandatory gear when it's cold like that. I also learned that you should pack a down jacket for when you sit down to eat or rest for more than 5 minutes. Before too long we were back at the first lake, looking up at the ice climbing formations underneath the lacy veil the snow makes as it fills in the cracks of the rock wall. Ken swore the ice was in enough to walk on, and we still had the snowshoes on so we opted to take the shorter route across the middle. I didn't fall flat this time (man, the stuff is !) and it's totally neat-o how the bubbles freeze in the very thick layer of ice--like you're going factor five in space when you look straight down into it. Anyone who gets that reference award yourself 500 bonus nerd points.

At the fork in the trail we took the fork untaken to a small, frozen waterfall. Not big enough to climb on, but interesting nonetheless. You could hear the water running under the ice in the creek, too. Yeah, so I'm easily amused in wilderness. There are way worse things to be, right? Right. Before we knew it we were skittering across the icy parking lot to the car, and my indecisive fingers which had been thawing and refreezing the entire time were grateful. My frozen behind was sorry, however that Ken's car had no butt-warmers. Butt-warmers are the business. There's something about radiant heat that just makes you feel safe and happy. And whatever they don't take care of the post-outing beer and eats will. Unfortunately, my fingers were too cold to feel like whipping out the camera and taking lots of pics. Or any, for that matter. Not that there was that much to see vista-wise. You'll just have to trust me that it was awesome in the purest most slang-free sense of the word.

So yeah. I finally got out since that embarrassing ride up Lefthand in October. I remembered why I moved here, why I fell in love with this place at first sight. Why I would be perfectly content to call myself a near-lifelong Coloradan.

Whirlwind, or What's a Lazy Blogger to Do?

I can't believe it's been almost a month since my last post. So much has happened, so much is still on the horizon. I think I might have to break this into a few posts, before it turns into a 10-pager.

To start with, I'm a hobo no mo. I found a nice little finished basement with tons of storage for bikes, gear, etc. I even have a garage, which now that it seems like it's snowing once a week at least, is nice. Zooey is not always happy with the smaller space--I think she got spoiled at Craig and Jen's spacious house. She also definitely does not like being alone--getting a kitten (or at least broaching it to the landlord) is definitely on the agenda for next year, once I finally start working. Whenever I come home from being away she meows incessantly for the first 30 minutes, when she's not fiercely rubbing her forehead into me or literally running after me when I change "rooms" (this place is really more of a studio) to make sure I'm not going to abandon her again. I'm finally unpacked, mostly arranged, almost entirely furnished.

So far, the weather has been making me really happy. I went for another semi-slippery run in the park, where the slush that got tamped down from the runners yesterday froze overnight. But, that park is gorgeous at any time of year. I love it covered in snow--it made me so happy to look down and see exuberant dog tracks dotting the trail. There is now a thin layer of ice that covers the entire pond--it was fun watching the geese walking on the water instead of swimming in it. And it is just wide open and peaceful. As long as have to live in Denver, having this within walking distance makes it not so bad. I did discover yesterday that what I thought were my cold-weather tights were really only mid-range--my entire backside was completely numb by the time I was halfway around the park, and it was only 28º when I went out (which don't get me wrong is cold, but not as cold goes, you see.) Today (like yesterday) there is not a cloud in the sky and the sun is blazing brightly. They said it was only supposed to get to mid-40's, but it's at least low 50's. I shucked my long-sleeve and ran in the tank top before I even got out of my neighborhood.

We have had our first bona fide storm--and 2nd and 3rd, really. We've had our first night of authentically butt-cold (10º qualifies, no?). The day of the 10º night I believe the high was only about 19º, and it snowed off most of the day. I thought I was being smart scheduling all my errands/meetings (including up in FC) for one day, but it turned out to be that day. Have I sung the praises of my little Saabaru lately? And if I had a dollar for everyone I saw slid off the road along I-25 I could have taken my self out to a very nice lunch when I finally got to Fort Collins. And yeah, I know I'll be sick of it by February, but it's barely December and we got off to a late start...first time in years the kids had Halloween with no snow, they say!

And now, since I have to come up with a superbill form by tomorrow and because the incessant cigarette smoking at the next table is driving me nutz (the only thing I don't like about Stella's...besides not much in the way of eats and sometimes too noisy). Off to try Pajama Baking instead...

I haven't had much chance to get to explore trails and rides yet. I had an embarrassing ride up Lefthand to Ward in October. Yes, I didn't eat enough, yes I was not used to the altitude (Ward is up at 9K at least) but still. That ride was not that steep. At least I beat the guy in the shorts full of holes--no one wants to ride behind that if they can help it.

And I'm finally getting up to Rocky Mtn this weekend for some hiking/running with my new friend Ken the Hand Surgeon! He lives up near Horsetooth in FC, and rides and runs all the time. He even did a 100 mile ultra last year. Talk about living the dream. Trip report to follow.

I also had a fantastic week up at Ortho Center of the Rockies. I got to meet and watch some wonderful docs, including Dr. Ken Duncan (the hand guy), my physio friend Nik, and a non-surgical ortho guy who used to be a family doc named Dr. Steve Yemm. Both Drs. Duncan and Yemm were great, and taught me a lot. I also got to see lots and lots of xrays. I spent a few hours in clinic with a spine surgeon, and I got to spend two mornings in surgery (in the OR!) watching knee replacements and foot/ankle repair/osteotomy stuff. It seriously made me bummed I didn't go to med school first. I was very interested to chat with Dr. Sobel's (total joint replacement guy) PA, Jason. He was Dr. Sobel's right hand, and all the other docs in the group that I met spoke very hightly of him. He got to do a lot. First Marcus and now this guy--perhaps PA school is in the cards after all. I know, I know--MORE school?! But hey--at least I know now that I love medicine of all kinds, so it's not like I'm totally switching fields...I don't know if there will ever be a job there, but there may at least be a referral list someday. Keep your fingers crossed!

And speaking of jobs, I've been shmoozing up a storm trying to get something going. I'm working out particulars with the pain clinic, which will hopefully be unbelievably awesome and shortcut 80-90% of the headaches and pain new acupunks go through when starting out. I've met with a bunch of acus and chiros here and in Boulder and up in the 970. I also got a tip-off to go get on the list for shifts at a local rehab drug/alcohol rehab council, which would be good experience and good connections too. Since my dream of a community-style clinic will have to wait for now, this may be the next best thing. Other than that, everyone's freaking about the economy and holiday craziness in general. Good thing there's always stuff like applying for EIN's and insurance credentialing and work comp training to keep me busy in the meantime.

And the wild and woolly world of work comp! I can now do impairment ratings (even though technically I can't sign my name to a report as an acu. Yet.) There's a whole boatload of potential patients and fun with paperwork and endless tables and figures I could delve into. Dr. Lerner's position is of course that we should--that it pays well compared to what we earn as acus, but it pays crappy compared to what docs can earn as surgeons, so there's our niche. Speaking of which, the Whole Foods thingey is rolling right along, even though some of the regional managers are being curmudgeonly. I will fly out to San Francisco in January, after my ortho test for the orientation and to hopefully meet someone in CO who can help me get it going here. I wonder if Fred would be interested in having me teach some courses out here...

Fina

Hobo Blues

Yeah, I'm kinda getting 'em. It has been months officially, but it feels like longer from all the time I'd been spending in June, July and August traveling. It's been a nice break, but I think I'm ready to plug in again.

So much has happened--my already late JMT trip got pushed another week for my grandfather (and oh, my grandmother is so scrappy, I just love her so much!). I spent a fantastic few days in Yosemite hiking up from the valley, taking my sweet time, climbing Half Dome, meeting cool people (none of them going my way though, not a single one!), and then once I got to the high country my enthusiasm just kinda evaporated. And it was starting to get really cold--much colder than I thought it would, about as cold as my ultralight gear would allow. I was nervous about the isolation, and the potential for weather with temps that low, and having to march 16+ miles/day whether I felt like it or not since my ortho class couldn't be missed...long story endless, I punted at the base of Donahue Pass, and headed back to Tuolemne. I met a couple of super cool guys just out for a relaxing, lazy trip, and hung out with them for a couple of days, and then they were kind enough to cram me into their 2-seater pickup and give me a lift back into the Valley, since the hiker buses had stopped running 2 days before. It was a nice trip all the same, and I can't wait to go back and start the Tuolemne to Portal section next year! I heard, after I got back to LA, that 4 guys who hiked up from Onion Valley got caught in a bit of a storm--they got some high winds, snow, ice, thunder/lightning etc. around Muir Pass. They were fine, but I was glad I quit when I did, since surviving that shit solo can get ugly pretty fast, especially that cold. Sometimes my risk aversion really does save my ass. And I will probably get around to putting up the journal at Summit Post or something. Photos are up here.

And really, I was feeling awfully lonesome and hankering for some nice mellow company, moreover I could NOT stomach the thought of blowing a week of vacation in LA, so I went up to Bellingham to visit my friend James. Now that I'm in Colorado I'm sad James is no longer in Boulder, but he's happier in Bellingham, which is a pretty lovely place I have to say. I spent a couple of days bumming around by myself in Seattle, found another Hostel From Hell™, and rode some ferry boats. Once with James we got to take long lunches messing about on the waterfront, play in the park, give ourselves sushi belly, try new beers, watch the veep debate with an unruly crowd of Bellinghamsters (they really call themselves that, I'm not making it up), and go hiking near the base of Mt. Baker and begin to plot our summer adventure traversing Ptarmigan Ridge. Oh, and I got to see the Fremont Troll on the way out of town. Photo record of that is here.

I swooped back into LA in time to make the ortho weekend, and here is where it gets sad again. I made arrangements with the wonderful woman who took care of my cats while I traveled to pick them up Sunday the 7th, or whatever the date was. Sunday morning she called me and said that Gibson was very sick and needed to go to the vet, so I said please take him. They called me in a couple of hours and told me as near as they could tell he had a stroke, and was pretty bad off. Somehow I made it through the rest of the class and went over there as soon as I could, knowing what I would probably have to do. I was fine (mostly) until I saw him--he was so skinny I almost didn't recognize him--he had evidently all but stopped eating, and was severely dehydrated too. He couldn't stand up, or hold up his head, or see too well, and he was scared out of his kitty mind. It was awful but I knew the kindest thing to do would be to let him go, he was so far gone. Dr. Jones was very kind, and let me stay with him, and even passed me a box of tissues when my blubbering was beyond control. I got the tiny little box of cremains in the mail yesterday. So now I can mix them with Pearl's and scatter them somewhere nice, I suppose.

By the time it was time to pick up Zooey I was somewhat composed. I did a championship cramming job of stuff into the car, and off we went. Zooey hated the box, and as I was pulling off the highway to get gas in Victorville I realized it was perhaps time to clip her leash to the door handle and let her find her own favorite place. Victorville was a little scary--this guy was roaming the parking lot back and forth across the road, and finally ended up dropping a dollar bill on the ground and convulsing himself with peals of hysterical laughter. We stopped again in Baker so I could get something to eat, and the nice lady at the drive-thru window gave me a small bowl and some water for Zooey. Naturally, she didn't want any of it, or the extra-stinky special wet food I brought to try and get her to eat. She ended up crawling behind my headrest and draping herself over it and falling asleep until we got to St. George, where I gave up and got a hotel room for a few hours. A few of her favorite hiding places are here

The next day was more of the same, but I was glad I stopped in St. George and got to see all of southern Utah by daylight. It was pretty incredible. The dry plains east of Grand Junction were nice too, but Summit County was the best (duh!). The aspens are brilliant gold and just shimmer against the dark evergreens. There was a little snow in the high country even, and the air was clear and crisp and not too cold. I landed at Craig and Jen's awesome little house in Platte Park around 5PM, happy to be there at last.

So far I've just been trying to get my bearings and get organized. It's hard to start your practice when you don't completely uproot yourself and move to a place you hardly know anyone, this is adding a few more wrinkles. But I don't care--I'm so SO happy to be here, I love it already. Even if I do have to stay in Denver for a year or two, since my strongest job prospects so far (super hot one tomorrow morning at an integrative pain clinic, stay tuned!) are here. I did meet a fantastically awesome physio who is the director of rehab at a large ortho facility up in Fort Collins this weekend, which was a nice surprise. I will go up there later this week or after I get back from LA in a couple of weeks to do some observation), and who knows? I'm also trying to figure out how I can make a connection at Boulder County Hospital, because it would be entirely possible to practice 2 days a week up there to start, as long as I have something busy down here. And, this morning I had coffee with a DNBAO from Fred's class 2 years ago who turned out to be so generous and kind and filled with heaps of useful information. I will observe at his office and possibly at the pain clinic where he started a month ago. It really is all about affinity.

I feel very lucky--I've hardly started asking around for help and already I've gotten so much. I try to remember that when I'm feeling scared, nervous, or lonely, and that if I found this much in 3 weeks hobo-crashing with my brother, surely in a few months once I have my own community life will be pretty good. And none of this I could have foreseen a month ago, let alone a year ago when I was struggling hard to answer all the questions about what was I going to do to make this work, to make it work for me, to get the life I wanted out of it. I still don't have all those answers, but I'll figure it out by the time I need them, I think.

The Year of No Middle Ground

It's either way, way up, or way, way down, or just way, way milestone/watershed/sea change either way. No wonder I'm ready to head for the hills for a while.

No sooner did I pass that stinkin' herbology exam and thus complete my nationals OM cert than my aunt and brother called on Sunday to tell me that our grandfather had died in his sleep earlier that day. Like with my grandmother's death (not his wife, my other grandmother is still doing remarkably scrappy and well) earlier this year, it wasn't really a surprise and it was a fair amount of relief, as neither of them had been feeling particularly well, but it's sad in the end when it finally comes. All four of my grandparents mean a great deal to me, and I felt lucky to have them and grow up near them so I could be with them often. I would not be the person I am today without them, that I know. I'd like to write a longer post but I'm having trouble collecting my thoughts. Now that I can finally sit down, so to speak, I feel like I never want to move again.