It's that time of year

The week surrounding August 28th always leads to a little tension, a few sleepless nights, and of course a few tears. I can't believe 3 years has come and gone since Mike died; sometimes it feels like a long time ago, and sometimes it feels like just yesterday. The past three years I have chosen to spend this time up in the mountains, and especially at the YMCA Estes Park camp. This year was no exception. Chester, Stan and I went up on Sunday and spent two nights there. As usual, it was lovely. Sunday afternoon before we rolled into camp we stopped at the grocery store and I bought fixings to make pizza for dinner. We were able to secure our favorite cabin-Robin's Nest-and settled in during the afternoon. I had a cup of tea, and the boys had a chew. I took a long walk, and then made pizza and salad for dinner. I read an entire book that evening, while sitting on the wraparound front porch. Monday, we got up, had breakfast, and I took the boys to Mary's Lake. I let them play in the water for a bit, we walked around the lake, and then came home. Later, Dad met me in town for lunch (Mom and Robert have been in Rochester for a wedding, so Dad came up for the day). After lunch, we drove into Rocky Mountain National Park and drove Trail Ridge Road to the highest point. Along the way, we were slowed down by three bull elk grazing right night to the road. It was a beautiful drive and the view at the Alpine Visitor Center was spectacular. After our drive, we grabbed some coffee and Dad went home. I had leftover pizza and started on another book before bed. This morning, the boys and I drove highway 7 through Allenspark into Nederland. Mike, the boys and I used to go to Nederland after our long hikes at Lost Lake, so it was appropriate that we stop at the park and have lunch. We then drove home, to the cemetary first, and I took an hour nap. Dad and I met for dinner and Mom and Robert will be home later tonight. I don't need to keep exalting the wonders of the YMCA camp, but I will. I don't know what it is about that place but it is so relaxing to me. Interestingly enough, when I go there and into RMNP I feel peaceful, almost like I feel Mike's presence. He loved the mountains after all, so I suppose it makes sense that I feel his presence when I am in the mountains. But being in RMNP I feel it so much more, like I can picture him camping by a lake or hiking through the tundra. Thus, it was the most perfect place where I could have spent the past few days.

Enchanted, indeed!

I am officially in love with the state of New Mexico! There is something about "the land of enchantment" I haven't felt in other states. I got into Santa Fe on Monday afternoon, and mom and dad got in about an hour later. We met up and had a delicious dinner at The Shed:

After dinner, I showed mom and dad my little B&B called the Madeleine Inn that was just up Palace Road:

They retired for the evening, and I headed to the Plaza where I listened to a local band play. I also moseyed over to The La Fonda and listened to the band they had there. The next day, I was set to go to Abiquiu to see Georgia O'Keefe's studio and home. However, mom and dad had to leave early afternoon to go to Taos and since this side trip would take much of the day I decided to stay around Santa Fe so I could spend more time with them. I met them for lunch near the Loretto Chapel and we walked Canyon Road and some of the art galleries and saw some of the local homes:

Mom and Dad headed to Taos, and I had a little siesta at the hotel. I then wandered around town and treated myself to a three course meal at Illuminario:

The next day, I drove "The High Road" to Taos. It was beautiful! I stopped at the Sanctuario de Chimayo, which is an old church said to have mysical powers:

The drive to Taos was beautiful, with little villages along the way. Also, lots of little cemetaries dotted the landscape:

I got into Taos and had a little lunch at my hotel, The Historic Taos Inn:

I met up with mom and dad, and we went to their hotel. I fell in love with it...The Inn on the Rio is owned by Robert and Jules, along with their dog Stormy. They purchased the property which was an old rundown motel lodge around 17 years ago and transformed it into a little oasis:

We walked around the plaza and had a delicious dinner at The Dragonfly which was referred to me by Amy (Thanks, girl! Great recommendation!). We drove to the Taos Pueblo and they were closed for the evening. Mom and dad then retired for the evening and I listened to some music at my hotel. Yesterday morning, Jules and Robert had invited me to breakfast at their inn. So, along with mom and dad, we enjoyed a egg and apple savory breakfast pancake, homemade bread by Robert (which mom and I bought a loaf!) and some other treats. We all went our separate ways and drove home. It felt good to get out of the car 5 hours later, but I certainly miss my enchanted land.

It's awfully tough to be a lab

Labs are adorable as puppies, regal as adults, and the sweetest breed when it comes to getting along with others, whether that means two-legged tall creatures, two legged short people, or four legged friends. And, sometimes this sweet nature can get them into trouble, unbeknownst to them. Chester and Stanley (and I) have a neighbor who loves dogs. She showers me with dog books, leaves treats on the front porch, and praises my two handsome boys every time we see her. She has two Irish Setters, but I don't see her with them as much as she sees me with my boys. She always goes to Whole Foods in the morning to get coffee and read. I was walking the boys that way this morning when we saw her. I tried to be subtle so that they wouldn't drag me to her, but once they realized they were mere moments away from pets and praise, they jumped up and down and started running to her. Except, Chester didn't see this iron fence pole (and neither did I) and ran right into it. That didn't stop him, he shook it off and went right to her for his lovin. Then I noticed that he was bleeding from his right eye! The fence post got the best of him, I suppose. We came home and I washed his eye, put some neosporin on his wound and gave him a chew. Sometimes, Chester gets in his own way! **Update: I heard Stanley barking after my shower. Lo and behold, our lovely neighbor left the boys a huge bag of different dog treats. It is tough to be a lab, indeed!

Mental Health Stuff

We live in a culture where mental illness is more taboo than anything else. Very few people feel comfortable talking about it, let alone admitting that friends and family have an illness. After the Aurora cinema shooting, we wanted to talk about gun control, not mental health. When our soldiers come back from Iraq, we want to talk about getting them jobs, not therapy for their PTSD. I think what is hard about mental illness is that its manifestation is more blatant and obvious than sometimes physical illness can be. Yet, it is somehow taboo to offer one’s support based on mental versus physical illness. Can we say,”Hmmm…I think you are a bipolar” any more than we can ask someone if they are diabetic, have blood pressure, or thyroid problems? Is being manic depressive worse than being diabetic? What if you are a diabetic alcoholic with manic depression? One school of thought is that none of this is no one’s business. Whether I may have a mental or physical illness is not for anyone to know except me and my medical practitioners. But who, of any of us, go to the doctor to seek help for any little thing that feels wrong? And who of any of us go to a doctor to talk about our mental states? Who of us go to a doctor and say, “I think I drink too much, I get depressed, wreck havoc on my friends and then binge at the local Taco Bell afterward…”. Nope. We fill out our boxes on our forms in the doctor’s office pretty run of the mill and moderate. And even if we go to the doctor, we end up with a plethora of medications. Not any help in lifestyle support, psychological support, or anything related to who I am as a whole person. We end up on drugs that I can’t even spell, let alone understand what they will do for me. But we trust that someone will (?). Healthcare is the biggest debate in our country. It will determine who our president, the person who leads our country, will be. It will determine how we will care for the millions of retiring baby boomers, their children and grandchildren. Yet, I can almost bet that very few people actually seek healthcare, yet alone mental healthcare, and understand either. Wanna bet $5?

Dream

Dream. The more I contemplate and write that word, the stranger it looks and sounds. It is one of those words, said over and over, that stops making sense after a while. The spelling starts to look weird (is it "ea" or "ee"?). What does it mean? For me, it has meant a few hours of adulterated sleep. Adulterated. "Impure, contaminated, mixed." Another one of those words that doesn't sound right after it is said over and over again. Yet, dreams and adulterated sleep have been a part of my world for the past few weeks, thus although I would like to think them strange or unforgiving, they are there. I had this dream last night that was particularly disturbing. It included a woman (who looked like Kenley on Project Runway (okay, I had just watched the episode before going to bed)) and my fate was in her hands. There was a certain "Scrooge-Ghost of Christmas Present" feel to it as I awoke at 11:45pm, gasping for air. I felt like a stranger in my home, my own bed, and got up to make sure Chester and Stanley were still there, ready to protect me. I went to bed with one eye open, waiting for midnight, and ended up falling asleep. I have had vivid dreams all week, but I can't recall the specifics of any of them. I just know I wake up, hair gone wild, makeup smeared on pillow (despite my evening facewashing), and my pajamas soaked in sweat. To what party I attend every night I will never know. Perhaps I am dreaming of you...