Tag Archives: Jane

DAY 120 – 01/12/2013 – Apres Ski Hot Dogs

Gabe leaned his head out the window and said, “Y’all are crazy!“.

Mark, the oldest.

Mark, the oldest.

David and I have heard this before. And we love it! Hearing that phrase means we’re doing something out of the ordinary. Not necessarily something truly insane, which might have terrible consequences, but something a bit daring. Maybe something cool that others might hesitate to try.

The day was absolutely frigid on the mountain. After just a couple of runs, you’d have to come inside to warm up.

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Asher, with his motor home in the background

But, you know, I was jones-ing for hot dogs cooked outside over a fire. It’s one of the joys of camping and we are, despite the weather and time of year, still camping.

So, when we arrived home at about 4pm, we decided to dig the snow out of our campsite fire pit so that dogs could be cooked. Digging got us nice and warm.

It also drew the attention of our wonderful neighbor, Gabe. He and his wife have 4 cute boys. Before Gabe pulled his head back inside the warm motor home, the boys were interested in cooking hot dogs on a fire, too. Has any boy ever not been interested in a campfire?

from left, Mark, me, Adin, Asher and Marci, their mom. Adin is still very little, so he got cold, cried, and went back inside before he cooked a dog.

from left, Mark, me, Adin, Asher and Marci, their mom. Adin is still very little, so he got cold, cried, and went back inside before he cooked a dog.

The two older boys suited up and brought over a couple of logs they had collected. Their mama must have taught them to never go to someone’s house empty-handed! That’s so dear.

The Livingston boys are really helping me out. I miss my small friends at home. Back home, there are Charlie, Julia, Katie and Jack across the street. Austin and Emma are a few doors away. I see my godson, Parker, a lot. My step-grandson, Zealen, lives a little farther away now but I see him as often as possible.

David with Mark & Asher

David with Mark & Asher

David calls me the ‘Baby Whisperer’ but, phppbt!, I just like to play. And kids are little, innocent miracles (especially when you can give them back).

So, anyhoo, we cooked some dogs on sticks over the fire. Yum!

– Jane

Jane is truly one of the very few adults I know who “GETS” kids.  She listens, prompts their input, and doesn’t seem ever to look over their heads and ignore them.  I HAVE NEVER SEEN HER ANSWER A PHONE OR TEXT IN A CHILD’S PRESENCE!  She is present to the moment she is choosing to share.  I never know quite what to say to little ones, I just wait to see what’s on their minds and hope I can add something they care about too.  I can’t help but be instructive; ask leading questions and hope to trigger them to solve their own little challenges.  I guess that’s whispering too…?

-David

DAY 119 – 01/11/2013 Salida, CO – It begins to snow

The wind roars through the Arkansas Valley at the base of Monarch Pass where our little trailer sits.

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Gusts up to 45 mph are predicted for this afternoon. Snow showers skitter through the fields, then whirl high in the air around the campground.

Here's our neighbor, the Livingstons. They're full time RVer's with 4 sons. Ages 10 to 2, I think. There blog is www.livingstonfamilyadventures.com

Here’s our neighbor, the Livingston’s. They’re full-time RVer’s with 4 sons. Ages 10 to 2, I think. Their  blog is www.livingstonfamilyadventures.com

The littlest Livingston, Mason. These boys sure are  fun!

The littlest Livingston, Mason. These boys sure are fun!

The temperature’s not so bad. In the 20’s. Last year on this day it was minus 29!

David will be heading off to ski soon. I’m hanging out in the Tramper today, recovering from a nasty cold.

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It’s cozy in our little home. So far it’s only rocking only gently. I have no fear of being swept away. The trailer is extremely well-built and I haven’t lost that 25 pounds I thought I would on this trip, so we are anchored firmly to the ground.

– Jane

The Blackboard, or, “My Cancer Recovery Meme”

Picture a blackboard. On the blackboard are written two paragraphs, in chalk. The first one reads:

A nurse walks in to the cubicle. She is dressed in a hazmat suit. Fluid-proof gown down to her shins. Booties over her shoes. There’s a paper cap over her hair. She wears a face mask with clear plastic eye protection. On her hands, industrial-strength rubber gloves. She carries a 60cc syringe (very large!) filled with a red liquid called “The Red Devil”. This is the Infusion Center, where chemotherapy happens. She injects the liquid, all of it, into the port in my right upper chest. The chest tubing dumps the chemotherapy agent, Adriamycin, into a subclavian vein, which only has a few inches to go to my right heart where the poison gets circulated to every cell in my body.

The second paragraph goes like this:

I haven’t looked at my chest in the mirror yet. It’s been several weeks since the bilateral mastectomy and the bandages covered me for the first two weeks. I’m beginning to feel a bit stronger and maybe I’m ready to take a look at myself. I have to do it someday. So far, I’ve been quite skillful in taking care of myself without actually looking at my chest, mostly because David has been monitoring my wounds and bandages. But today’s the day, so I look. It’s bad. But, I knew it would be. Livid red scars running across my chest where my beautiful breasts used to be. I am now concave. I don’t have  any flesh at all there. I look like an old, old man. I take a deep breath and remind myself that the surgery saved my life. I may have been in hospice by now without any treatment. So, if this is the way it’s going to be, well, I can live with that. The scars will fade. Then, I notice a small, pale pink dot, about a quarter of an inch wide, down near the scar on my right chest. Is that a piece of surgical adhesive? Suddenly, I feel sick. I sit down hard on the toilet seat. That little pale mole is one that used to ride high on my breast, like a little ornament. Now its several inches lower and flat against my rib. I start to cry…

Well, the good thing is that these two paragraphs are getting erased, bit by bit, from the blackboard. It started right away, the first time I could walk farther than around the block with David. It happens every time I laugh with my daughter. An eraser comes into the picture and removes a few more letters.

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The Tramper Voyage is helping. Each time something wonderful happens, the eraser comes along and removes some of the paragraph. Looking up at the starry sky at Baxter State Park.  Gracie smiling at me when we played together. Swimming in the warm Gulf of Mexico at Cape San Blas. Zealen running out in the morning saying “I’m a blueberry!!” because he dressed himself all in blue. Riding a bike out into the beautiful wilderness with David.

At these times I am filled up with happiness and more words are erased.

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I’m not the only person in the world with a blackboard. These paragraphs, written in chalk, are my own personal events from cancer treatment. But, everyone has a blackboard, deep inside, where hurtful things are written. Nobody gets through life without one. The trick is to let awesome things happen, then recognize that your own personal blackboard is slowly being erased.

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I fully realize that my rate of erasure is accelerated by being on an extended vacation. But, good things and good people happen everywhere, all the time. Even at work. Sometimes, even in traffic!

With grace and love and hope, we can all heal.

– Jane

DAYS 107 to 110 – The Push Through New Mexico

Winter is here in the West! So, New Mexico was, unfortunately given short shrift.

It’s a beautiful state. We’ve visited before, about 16 years ago with Olivia. We loved the Zuni Mountains, Jemez Springs and Santa Fe. It was in New Mexico 16 years ago that we visited the Acoma Pueblo Indian Reservation and witnessed an awesome Powwow.

But, because we worried a bit about getting into our long-term campground at Monarch Mountain in the snow, we hightailed it through the Land of Enchantment.

Our journey north took three nights of sleeping in New Mexico. Our campsites varied widely. The first night was in a good old Walmart parking lot in the town of Carlsbad.

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The night of 12/30, was much more interesting. We drove into the tiny town of Vaughn and stopped for gas. Turns out, we decided to spend the night in the gas station’s vast parking lot.

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During the night, the wind kicked up and roared across the desert, bringing a few inches of fine, dry snow with it.

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It was somewhat of a noisy night, considering the wind and the nearby train tracks! Lucky for us, they weren’t using the train horn.

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Tumbleweed! Lined up on the fences after a windy night.

The next night, on New Year’s Eve, we found ourselves in Carson National Forest not too far from Taos, NM.

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Carson National Forest

Calling this huge area a forest, in the middle of the big empty desert, was a stretch. There were not many trees! We pulled off the two-lane highway down an unpaved forest road.

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It was maybe one of the coolest free spots we’ve camped in! Away from the highway, sheltered by a couple of big juniper bushes, we rang in the New Year.

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The Rocky Mountains get bigger on the road to Monarch, Colorado.

The Rocky Mountains get bigger on the road to Monarch, Colorado.

We had about an hour of daylight left on New Year’s Day when we pulled into the Heart of the Rockies campground, just a few miles down the valley from Monarch ski mountain. We were finally in Colorado!

Here, the Tramper and Marfa, the 4Runner, will get a break from each other for the next month. We settled in, cozy in the Tramper that David made.

And now, let the skiing begin!

– Jane

DAY 106 – 12/29/2012 Carlsbad Caverns, Oh My! ?

I have no particular interest in caverns.  Went spelunking once in the 80’s with a machinist co-worker.  We entered a little slit of a grassy hole in West Virginia, slithered between a few cracks I wouldn’t be comfortable with now, descended about 80 or 100 feet into the ground to a rocky platform, where ropes would be needed to go any further.  Each of us wore a carbide lamp, so we turned them out.  DARK.  Cave-dark.  Darker than anything I’d ever seen or since.  Never had the need to do that sport again though!

Jane too wanted nothing to do with caves, holes, caverns or closed spaces of any kind.  Jean-Philippe (our trusted advisor again), assured us that it would be more like a cathedral or auditorium.  Well lit and not constricted at all.  I worried that it would be a light-show or organ music background.  I don’t usually like a natural wonder that gets over humanized or commercialized.

But here we were, driving North on the only road that made sense for where we were headed in Colorado.  Even that roadrunner and coyote gave us chuckle as if to say, “we were on the right road at the right time”.  And smack along the way were two more National Park sites where we could use our Parks Pass.  Quadalupe Peak looked beautiful and is the highest point in Texas.  We had arrived too late in the day to hike the whole round trip to the summit.  We don’t feel the draw to become “peak-baggers”, just love those tough hikes when the time is right.  So as we left, both of us looked likely to mosey on into the cavern at Carlsbad, New Mexico.

Access is from a mountain ridge with a big parking lot.  A big, full parking lot.  We sort of forget that this is a holiday week.  Lines snaking along ropes led to a smiling ranger who graciously gave us our tickets “free” after checking my I.D.and National Parks Annual Pass.  While waiting we read about several options including 4-6 hour King’s Tours with a ranger, but also some shorter options.  A glaring flat screen message blinked through some sales options and also a Big Red Warning to expect LONG WAITS at the elevator to come back up!

We saw another option even though we had only arrived just after 2:00 in the afternoon.  Hiking in or out through the natural entrance was allowed.  The overall distance covered would be about 1 ½ miles each way and descend over 750′ into the cavern.  Cool! It was going to be like hiking an upside-down mountain!  We’d much rather hike than ride an elevator anyway.

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The entrance has been kept nearly the same as when it was “found” by white explorers.  There IS evidence of Native American use, but not very deep and not very conclusive as to who, when and how much.  Shards from pottery from varied sources have been inconclusive.  were they “real finds” or discoverers looking for attention?

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The only way to descend any great amount in a short distance is with looping switchbacks.  And those switchbacks did LOOP!  The surface was asphalt, dry and very grippy.  The trail about 40″ wide and lined with a nice steel rail everywhere it counted.  True to word, the place is “cavernous”.  BIG, HIGH, WIDE in places.  Mostly dry and a general constant temperature, but a welcome 90% humidity, particularly after weeks of desert dryness at less than 30%.

Describing the formations is about as silly as the process of naming some of them.  Kinda like cloud-watching metaphors.  I’ll let the pictures do their magic, leave out my 1000 words.  Suffice to say, we went all the way down into and around the big room and enjoyed that hike back out!  Jane continues to impress me with her growth as a hiker.  She really rebuilt her heart after that darned chemo (It had snuffed her cardiac Ejection fraction from a baseline of 72% down to below 50%, and a healthy normal average is about 65%).   We were passed by only one guy, a runner, all sweaty and breathing hard. Jane paused only about twice on 2 of the many, many stone benches on the way back to our world.

– David

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