Falling Into Changes

Me at my desk in the under-renovation Writing Room (photo courtesy of Zachary Valdez)

Hulloo-o-o-o there, blog readers!  I just did the math and realized I let 10 days slip by since my last entry.  In that time, summer surrendered to fall.  Not intentional, I promise.  (The 10 days, I mean.  I have no control over the seasons though at one point I may have convinced my children to believe this for awhile.  Hey, some kids are gullible!)   It's been a rough couple of weeks.  Between my shoulder pain and the upped dose of Celexa (the mild antidepressant I started AND stopped last year, and then REstarted this year) my body and its chemistry have been out of whack enough to slow me down and subconsciously bum me out.  That's a long story made sub-compact right there. 

Was feelin' a little blue . . . 

However, I made two significant decisions to battle these detractors of me.  Namely, adding acupuncture to the list of prophylactic measures in my bag of tricks for this recurring injury to that wondrous joint which anchors my left arm to my torso; and, after a month of waiting for 30 milligrams of citalopram (generic Celexa) to make peace with my brain, I dropped back down to 20 milligrams this past Friday.  These simple acts of proaction (sorry, Spellcheck, it's a word tonight!) have psychologically nudged me back to a comfortable position far from the cliff edge to which I was scooting day by day.

My GAME face.

Because none of my fears revolve around needles, my problems with acupuncture centered more around the money than anything else.  I'd heard enough about Dr. Kestner to feel comfortable in choosing him as my practitioner of this Eastern medicine.  But insurance companies are not on board with the insertion of hair-fine shafts of stainless steel into nerve and muscle.  My first session began with a consult and questions which didn't end when the good doc stuck me with 9 teensy-weensy spears; at my second appointment, I told him to let me have it . . . full strength . . . that resulted in 20 of the little buggers.  I assured him I could sit very still for the roughly 20-minute session.  Oh, how I tried!  But I must admit right here that in reaching for my iPhone to attempt a few photos, I knocked out one of the acu-needles.  Ooops.  I was paying for that!  Lesson learned.  (So, what you see below are the 3 shots Dr. Kestner obligingly took for me during my maiden voyage.)  And with the addition of daily icing, a touch of ibuprofen as needed, and a complete withdrawal from all forms of physical exercise requiring my shoulder, I've noticed an incremental improvement each week 0f 10%-15% which differs from simply doing nothing or attempting physical therapy.  (That also means that for THREE weeks -- sad weeks for me -- I've refrained from my push-up regimen for the third late summer in a row.  Aaargh!  Amazing how quickly muscle loses its form in a post-40 body.)

I'm NOT apprehensive about the treatment . . .
I'm thinking about my wallet!

The doc suggested I try smiling so that folks wouldn't
the wrong idea about acupuncture!

Still working with some muscle here . . . 

Per the antidepressant, even with the aid of my organic cold-brewed Rwandan coffee twice a day, I found myself in a haze most of the day which robbed me of my natural energy and brightness.  It was as if I was unable to every fully wake up.  Concentration came and went.  Usually went.  My mornings took two hours to get me up and at 'em -- totally out of character.  Instead of being late to church or other events because I tried to cram too many quick chores right up against my shower-shampoo-and-shine-time, my tardiness stemmed from a very real physical inability to move or think quickly. I know someone who takes 60 milligrams of this drug daily; it explains a lot about the lack of quality function in their life.  (This little blip in my health radar further enhanced my awareness of the difficulty that my brother and people like him who suffer with mental and emotional illnesses face when they really MUST take lithium and stronger medicine in order to live day-to-day with any semblance of normalcy.) Add to that the increase in my desire to eat, full belly or not, which started to pack on some of those hard-fought ten pounds I lost earlier this year.  NOT COOL!  The lower dose decreased my appetite.  Part of the reason I added this particular anti-depressant on board was to alleviate my anxiety and thought-cycles concerning my weight, eating, etc.  All of which I've touched upon in this blog, or The Reluctant Suburbanite blog, over the past few years. 

Say HELLO to my little friend . . . 

On a positive note long in the works, my last visit to my primary care physician came with an order for blood work.  Turns out that I've finally succeeded in raising my B-12 levels to normal AND my iron is much improved.  It took years to get this right!  My orders are to continue my supplement regimen for the rest of my natural born life.  ROGER THAT!

  

That's ONE type of butterfly.

THIS is another type.

So, let's end this entry right there.  I'm back in the saddle.  Again.  Perking up.  And relieved to say it.  My dog is at my feet -- speaking of feet, he nibbled on my hubby's Harley Davidson black leather boots one morning after my son left them out, minor damage but aggravating to my man, AND I replaced an expensive pair of Nike Air Max tennis shoes to the tune of $120, ON SALE, plus a 20% coupon but STILL, that belonged to my son's friend and found their way to Hank's mouth because they were left in his domain, and there's my son in both stories, enough said about Hank, let's focus on the boy.  

But I digress.  It happens.  

The hubby.

The SON!

The HANKIE Mutt!!!

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Taming the Savage Rodent, Or Not

Not to beat a dead horse, but I guess I'm gonna!  I've returned with my promised post about the animals I encountered on the ol' hike up the big Colorado hill of two weeks ago.  Just HOW many entries does that make about the monumental trip to Long's Peak?

I'm rather prone to friend-making of both the human and animal kind.  (Let's not split hairs on the science of humans belonging to the animal kingdom . . . or the fact that there are those humans who more resemble the beasts of the field than mannered socially-contributing folks.  That's another story.)  And ever since my camera -- or whatever lovely borrowed DSLR I might be toting around and hate to one day part with -- became an extension of myself, it seems that my new friend count began to up.

Though we never laid eyes on predators of any kind, the four-legged variety, there were hawks and carrion-eaters, I know with absolute surety that they lurked behind or beneath a boulder somewhere not far off.   They simply had to because the sheer numbers of instant dinners in the form of mini-mammals galore was staggering!  Never have I seen so-o many low-to-the-ground scurrying critters, and such nifty varieties, in the space of one wilderness sojourn.

Of course, the forest harbored squirrels aplenty.  Though they remained silent during the dark of a pre-dawn morning as we trudged along at the beginning of our journey, said squirrels scolded us at every knee-jarring turn in the path upon our return through their wooded neighborhood.  I tried to squeeze off a few shots of them but the results were not satisfying nor worthy of a picture post here.  

Now, the smooth balls of fluff which seemed to permeate the ground all around us during the tundra portion of our hike, the pica, or pika as many people choose to spell it, were a favorite of mine.  Little charmers of unending cuteness.  (There's even an 13,000 foot peak in the White River National Forest of Colorado called Pica Peak.)   And I DID try to take a portrait of several specimens along the way but they're too darned quick!  If there'd been energy and time to set up a mini-tripod and hang around for a bit, I know I would have reaped a satisfying reward.  However, I did scour the Internet and found a few borrowed images to share.  Interesting to note, the pica is NOT a rodent but is an actual cousin to rabbits.  Of which we saw several as they hopped into our path before realizing their folly and swiftly hightailing it outta there.  (There was this line of banter concerning Jody, the young woman and girlfriend to Shep, as a 'rabbit choker.'  I never really got it until over lunch the day after our adventures, when it was explained to me for historical reasons I won't get into here, that Shep is from Wyoming and Jody hails from South Dakota, and the citizens of Wyoming, feeling superior to their neighbors, referred to natives of South Dakota as 'rabbit chokers' in a derogatory sense.  Obviously, Shep and Jody had parlayed it into an ongoing relationship joke.) 

 "Peekaboo!"

Those ears.  That fur.  The wee paws.

Upon reaching the Boulder Field, we ran into our next wildlife friend.  Or, rather, he ambled into us!  One bold plump marmot, obviously an opportunistic feeder hanging out at the base camp at the foot of the keyhole entrance to the other side of Long's Peak, ingratiated himself with our party.  And as you'll see here, the waddling rascal was wholly unafraid of us homo sapiens.

I spot him and think, "Oh, come our way, little critter!"

As if attuned to my brain waves, he began to head in our general direction.

Maybe we were between him -- an instant assumption of his sex on my part -- and his family?  Or his den?  My knowledge of marmots was limited, I'll admit.

At this point, I'm excited and speaking aloud to the marmot while aiming my camera.
"Come on, come over here, come see us!"

 He perked right up, as if he'd been awaiting my verbal cue.

 About that time, we ALL realized he was making an intentional beeline in our direction.  My sister felt this development was less than desirable. 

However, both me and the marmot were pretty pleased with the way things were going.

 I think right about here is when he realizes that the nut-and-fruit bar in Rob's possession could very well soon be in HIS belly . . . 

You can see the purpose in his beady little eyes . . . 

And against Rebekah's wishes, and to my great pleasure, Rob fed the varmint.

For his second act, the marmot headed straight over to me, my camera and my Clif bar.  I fed him, clicking away the entire time, until the moment he swiped the nibble AND bit my finger in the process.  He drew no blood but it hurt.  This bothered me very little because I GOT THE PICTURE!!!

 He's rather a handsome fellow, methinks.  I wonder whether or not the white fur around his muzzle and face denotes his age as it does with dogs and cats.  (At this point, he is still sitting at my feet.  Not yards away, captured with a zoom lens.  That's my shadow falling over him.  Pretty darned cool.)

Further reading and research admonishes hikers and climbers from feeding the hungry furred friends of forest and tundra.  There's a particular flea carrying the bubonic plague that's making its way through certain rodent populations.  The marmot, a relative to the squirrel, also known as a woodchuck or groundhog, is a rodent.  Of this disease-vector fact I was blissfully unaware just two weeks ago.  Ahhh, sweet ignorance, eh?

Chipmunks ran amok at the stop near the clear sunken lake near which we rested on our way up.  On our way down, I had need of the open-air outhouse -- pack your used wiping products out, thanks so much -- so we plunked down at this same spot for a brief respite before entering the forest during our final endless leg of our 13 1/2 hour sojourn.  We met a family of campers who had spent their day fishing and were headed back with their catch and their poles tossed over their shoulders.  They appeared considerably fresher than anyone in our group.  And then there was that one singular chipmunk, so earnest, so curious, so bold and begging, who yearned to share my sister's bag of nuts, dried fruit and chocolate.  My sister, while willing to leave a sample for said chipmunk, was not of a mood to entice it from her hand.  I'm sure visions of the biting marmot were yet fresh in her mind.  Smart girl!  

 Here comes Alvin.  Not sure where Simon and Theodore are!

Blurry but evident.  I especially dig the rock!  Too big for my pack and my back.

Oops!  Guess he was a bit spooked.  He'll be back!

 This is how I know . . . 

A-huh!  See there.  I told you so.

Why is his face so dirty?

 One nut down, one to go.

He wasted NO time.  And both of those almonds ended up crammed into his cheeks!

Aside from the rodents and their ilk, birds ranked as the the second highest viewed member of the animal kingdom.  I've snapped many a hawk and sparrow and cardinal.  But I can't recall ever having seen a          , much less pointed a camera in it's direction and recorded its handsomeness for posterity . . . and my blog.

 Several ptarmigan snacked alongside the tundra trail on the way up.
Our presence caused them little to no distress.

 They ate and ate with little regard for the intense observation of their habits.

 Incredible how their plumage really does blend in with the environment.

 I'd love to return and see them in full winter-white splendor.

A final shot as I try to catch up with the human pack up ahead!

When you put it all together, the scenery, the challenge, the mountain itself, the company, the wildlife, this trip, this entire episode in my life, ranks right up there on the ol' bucket list.  One of those items you check off even though you didn't actually realize it had even made it onto your life list.  I'm quite satisfied with all of it.  Every element.  Even my burning shoulder can't detract from the accomplishment.  In fact, I'm hankering for a good fourteener hike on a monthly basis now.  It's in my blood.  

Until another summit opportunity presents itself, I'll soldier on with other blog topics.  But first, a few random shots that don't really fit into a specific category regarding this hike but still deserving of honorable mention.

Either a fish or a fisherman trailed blood for a good eighth of a mile.  I thought this splotch resembled an umbrella.

 Is it rock or is it wood?

Though not a cat person, Rob was smitten with Mooney.

I love how they both track the approaching dog here. 

Here comes the comfort and commiseration.

Spreading the love was ALL this young man did on this corner all afternoon!

 I'm forever grateful that THIS is not the backpack I toted up the big hill.

 A young man sporting an interesting gauge who agreed to allow me to take his picture.My sister APOLOGIZED for my behavior!  When did THAT happen?

 Jody registers pretty high on the cute scale, so she deserved another picture.

 This dreadlocked maiden served my sister an iced beverage at a quaint downtown Fort Collins coffee shop.  Again, I asked to snap a shot.  She agreed.  Quite amiably.

 Shep ducked into the neighboring pub rather than wander down the road with us.

 Oh!  And I did find one still squirrel -- albeit on my walk in Fort Collins.

The local wildlife ala Fort Collins.