Kitchen Sink

Don't you wonder what went on here?

Don't you wonder what they talked about, while they were washing dishes?

Don't you wonder if they were the same as you are?
Unsure.
Stressed.
Burning the candle at both ends (I love a good cliche!)

Don't you wonder where they are now?

Don't you wonder why they left, and why this house has been forgotten?

Every time I drive East, over the mountains, I wonder what brought people West. And I'm told--by books and historians--it was open space, opportunity, the chance at something big like land and ownership and a horizon that had no bounds. A life that wasn't constricted by convention; a life that was adventurous, and unique.

Well, that's why I'm here.
That's why I love the west.
That's why I can't imagine living anywhere else, even now, in 2007, when every part of the country looks like the other. Strip malls and food chains crowd every corner; Walmarts and gas stations positioned at each freeway exit. There's nothing unique, it seems.

Unless you stray off the road.

And then you have to ask, why did they leave? And where are they now? And if everywhere is just like the other, why am I in this place?

Photo:
by Kristin
abandoned homestead, Winthrop, Wa
september, 2007

Despite Vertigo, I'm Still Here . . .

Okay.

Playing off the last topic, so many months ago . . . vertigo.

Yep, that's the theme.

Too much going on and not enough time for thought. A summer of writing deadlines, writing workshops, backpacking trips and a LOT of time at Chimayo floating the rivers, cooling off in the swimming hole with the kids and dogs, hiking and biking--in general, just hiding out from civilization. If only it was possible. . .

In September, I destroyed my laptop with a tipped-over glass of red wine. Poof. It doesn't take much. And the loss was great. A week later, Zorro developed a bowel obstruction from a pair of red plaid boxer shorts and a 10 inch corn cob. Surgery ensued. And aspiration pneumonia. And an extended stay in the emergency vet hospital. The whole time we're thinking: we love this dog, we love him big time . . . we love him so much we'll pay any amount of money to make sure he gets better. But we were plagued by the fact that the money spent might feed an entire African village for a whole year, and then we felt frivolous. And too privileged. It was a difficult scene.

Anyway, it's taken me awhile to reconstruct everything; and it's taken me a really long time to feel up to doing the blog thing again.

On the blog front, Heather is a constant inspiration, with her candid and insightful observations; her deep commentary on life. And I hope to keep it up this time. And I hope to be more focused and concise. Basically, I hope to write things that mean something to someone else besides me.

And so, there you have it.

Chimayo Bound. Re-imagined . . .

Photo:
vicki and peg, Windom Peak, Chicago Basin
weninuche wilderness, colorado
september, 2007