I have been rather busy in the last few weeks, and so have neglected blogging. I am still contemplating what to do next, as in 5 months I have not found a nursing job. A strong interest is in pursuing a bachelor's and master's degree in therapy. There are a few different directions I could follow in that; one is to find a way to ease the path for people who are helping their aging mother or father make transitions associated with aging, one is to assist people in making a transition to healthier eating, and so forth. How to make the transition into college with limited Financial Aid available [as I made a good income prior to losing my job] and with my unemployment benefits running out, is a challenge and a puzzle.
Today I attended the third "Ruhi" study class on the Covenant, which is thrilling and food for thought, which we are meeting on Sundays.
It is the last of September, the full moon, and a beautiful day. Approximately a month ago during the Blue Moon my daughter and her fiance held a beautiful and touching handfasting ceremony, and they plan to marry a year and a day from then.
I gravitated into joining the Leadership Team of the Tacoma Job Club, which is growing and thriving in its new meeting space at the Tacoma News Tribune offices.
Much on my mind has been contemplating moving to some place much less expensive, so that even when I again have a well paid job, less of my budget will go into rent and more can be saved or spent more wisely. I would, as most people, like to have the most interior space for the least amount of cash, partly because I need room for sewing, so that entails a second bedroom. I have not begun to look, yet. There is much sorting and clearing out to be done before I can be serious about moving.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Personal Wildfires
Friday I picked up my daughter and her fiance for a camping family reunion at Steamboat Rock State Park on Banks Lake, near Grand Coulee Dam, in Washington. Topography changes in Washington as you cross the Cascades, from greenery to scattered pines, to desert with sagebrush. We left I-90 at George, Washington, drove past Sun Lakes through a lot of basalt cliffs, and as we approached Steamboat Rock, saw a lot of signs for "Rocks 6 Miles." We joked: Really. I would not have guessed.
We arrived in mid afternoon to discover one other family, one of my cousins, in a good spot, and camped near him. After we set up the 3-room tent borrowed from the fiance's parents, and the kitchen, my daughter and fiance realized they had forgotten to bring their suitcase, so I shared out whatever spare clothing I had that they needed. The temperature was in the 80's during the day, but dropped to the 40's in the evening--typical of a desert climate.
Camp was beautiful: basalt cliffs and rocks, Russian olives and sagebrush and willows, a serene lake, and a crystal clear atmosphere which changed minute by minute with the light at dusk and sunrise. I went off to buy firewood and discovered that no fires were allowed, so we altered our cooking methods accordingly. As the temperature dropped, it would have been nice to have a fire. More cousins and a sister arrived, and we sat at a picnic table into the dark, shivering, telling stories, and watching the stars pop out. More stars than I've seen in about ten years. The Milky Way. Even the half moon was so bright, a flashlight wasn't necessary for navigation.
I discovered that, though to appearances the camp spot was level, my sleeping spot was not, so I fought with gravity the next two nights. For some reason I slept poorly. We were camped next to a thicket, from which I could hear a lot of twigs snapping and stomping around during both nights, and realized we were next to a deer thicket. I had seen one white-tailed deer with spikes at the area two miles away where there was a water source, but never saw our neighbor deer. I heard them a lot, though. Sunday morning I even heard a scuffle and a little bleat.
At Northrup Point, two miles away, there was a shower. I had one towel and one washcloth and some shampoo, so the three of us divvied this up. We read that we could take a thirty minute shower for fifty cents, so we figured out a way for one person to slip in after another, so as to make the limited supply of quarters last. After my daughter's quick shower, I jumped in, and shortly realized that the shower only lasted 3 minutes, not thirty. Fortunately, I hadn't put shampoo in my hair before the water ran out. Life is good.
We saw deer, chipmunks, geese and ducks and a heron, flickers and chickadees and magpies and crows, lots of turkey vultures, and my daughter caught a glimpse of a coyote. Sunday I finally slept at two-thirty in the morning, listening to the yips and howls of the coyotes and their cubs, and awoke at dawn hearing roosters crowing.
More cousins and siblings arrived Saturday. We sat in the shade and played a pub game the fiance brought, "Shut the Box." I listened as the sons of one of my cousins discussed numeric odds, way over my head, mathematically. As the temperature rose, some people swam: the bottom was muddy, but the water warm. Someone brought a teething baby. More stories were told.
Saturday evening it clouded up and there was a lot of lightning. I predicted that by the time dinner was ready and I was cooking it, the rain would come. I was so glad we had put up a fly for shade, which also serves for rain. We quickly moved most of our items off the picnic table and under the fly as the rain came down. Then we saw them: two wildfires had been started by lightning; one across the lake, and one to the north on the faraway hills. Our party phoned them in, and they had already been reported. We watched the fires, which burned all night and all day Sunday, as the rain was only a brief shower. I awoke Sunday smelling the smoke, which spread across the whole area.
Sunday more people gathered during the morning, and we had a large potluck lunch. I recruited six people to walk our sun fly up to the general gathering, which had no shade. Ice cream was cranked. Someone brought green ambrosia, one of my favorite salads. Happy Birthday was played on a tuba for my uncle [my last remaining uncle], then my uncle played a few bars of Ach Du Lieber Augustine on the tuba. At last, feeling like a party pooper for taking away the shade, our party packed up the sun fly and drove away. Driving in the daylight is surpassingly pleasant, as opposed to driving in the dark.
It was a windy drive back. I had my daughter drive from George, Washington to the rest stop after Vantage. I directed her wrong when we got onto the freeway and had a panic attack when I realized we were heading East by accident, but we got turned around. Although my daughter has been driving for years, I haven't been riding with her during that time. My heart and mind take a trip back in time whenever I ride with her, remembering the harrowing time of teaching her to drive. Eventually I will get over it and my heart will catch up to my rational mind in realizing she is a competent driver.
We sang to Steeleye Span and 80's music as we crossed the Cascades, left the weekend and our brief sojourn at camp, and entered the city and the traffic that we drive in daily. We left the magic behind, but it lingered in our hearts.
We arrived in mid afternoon to discover one other family, one of my cousins, in a good spot, and camped near him. After we set up the 3-room tent borrowed from the fiance's parents, and the kitchen, my daughter and fiance realized they had forgotten to bring their suitcase, so I shared out whatever spare clothing I had that they needed. The temperature was in the 80's during the day, but dropped to the 40's in the evening--typical of a desert climate.
Camp was beautiful: basalt cliffs and rocks, Russian olives and sagebrush and willows, a serene lake, and a crystal clear atmosphere which changed minute by minute with the light at dusk and sunrise. I went off to buy firewood and discovered that no fires were allowed, so we altered our cooking methods accordingly. As the temperature dropped, it would have been nice to have a fire. More cousins and a sister arrived, and we sat at a picnic table into the dark, shivering, telling stories, and watching the stars pop out. More stars than I've seen in about ten years. The Milky Way. Even the half moon was so bright, a flashlight wasn't necessary for navigation.
I discovered that, though to appearances the camp spot was level, my sleeping spot was not, so I fought with gravity the next two nights. For some reason I slept poorly. We were camped next to a thicket, from which I could hear a lot of twigs snapping and stomping around during both nights, and realized we were next to a deer thicket. I had seen one white-tailed deer with spikes at the area two miles away where there was a water source, but never saw our neighbor deer. I heard them a lot, though. Sunday morning I even heard a scuffle and a little bleat.
At Northrup Point, two miles away, there was a shower. I had one towel and one washcloth and some shampoo, so the three of us divvied this up. We read that we could take a thirty minute shower for fifty cents, so we figured out a way for one person to slip in after another, so as to make the limited supply of quarters last. After my daughter's quick shower, I jumped in, and shortly realized that the shower only lasted 3 minutes, not thirty. Fortunately, I hadn't put shampoo in my hair before the water ran out. Life is good.
We saw deer, chipmunks, geese and ducks and a heron, flickers and chickadees and magpies and crows, lots of turkey vultures, and my daughter caught a glimpse of a coyote. Sunday I finally slept at two-thirty in the morning, listening to the yips and howls of the coyotes and their cubs, and awoke at dawn hearing roosters crowing.
More cousins and siblings arrived Saturday. We sat in the shade and played a pub game the fiance brought, "Shut the Box." I listened as the sons of one of my cousins discussed numeric odds, way over my head, mathematically. As the temperature rose, some people swam: the bottom was muddy, but the water warm. Someone brought a teething baby. More stories were told.
Saturday evening it clouded up and there was a lot of lightning. I predicted that by the time dinner was ready and I was cooking it, the rain would come. I was so glad we had put up a fly for shade, which also serves for rain. We quickly moved most of our items off the picnic table and under the fly as the rain came down. Then we saw them: two wildfires had been started by lightning; one across the lake, and one to the north on the faraway hills. Our party phoned them in, and they had already been reported. We watched the fires, which burned all night and all day Sunday, as the rain was only a brief shower. I awoke Sunday smelling the smoke, which spread across the whole area.
Sunday more people gathered during the morning, and we had a large potluck lunch. I recruited six people to walk our sun fly up to the general gathering, which had no shade. Ice cream was cranked. Someone brought green ambrosia, one of my favorite salads. Happy Birthday was played on a tuba for my uncle [my last remaining uncle], then my uncle played a few bars of Ach Du Lieber Augustine on the tuba. At last, feeling like a party pooper for taking away the shade, our party packed up the sun fly and drove away. Driving in the daylight is surpassingly pleasant, as opposed to driving in the dark.
It was a windy drive back. I had my daughter drive from George, Washington to the rest stop after Vantage. I directed her wrong when we got onto the freeway and had a panic attack when I realized we were heading East by accident, but we got turned around. Although my daughter has been driving for years, I haven't been riding with her during that time. My heart and mind take a trip back in time whenever I ride with her, remembering the harrowing time of teaching her to drive. Eventually I will get over it and my heart will catch up to my rational mind in realizing she is a competent driver.
We sang to Steeleye Span and 80's music as we crossed the Cascades, left the weekend and our brief sojourn at camp, and entered the city and the traffic that we drive in daily. We left the magic behind, but it lingered in our hearts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
