The Teak Project, Part 2

The table in the process of being sanded.

The finished project in the weird glow of the patio heater, six days after beginning. Wine for the crew.

And by day.  The remaining chairs have not been set out yet, but family vacation week is approaching! I'm also staining a "teak look" coffee table that needs a little more time.

After the rainy winter, time on the patio seems more beautiful than ever.

Looking toward the ocean

Pink water

The moon at sunset

Away and Back

I was in Albuquerque for a T'ai Chi Chih Retreat. T'ai Chi Chih is a moving meditation designed to activate, circulate, and balance the body's intrinsic energy (also known as chi.)

The plane made its final approach alongside a rainbow (which I did not get a photo of.) There were more rainbows that evening--doubles and complete arcs.

T'ai Chi Chih's movements are slow....

Turtles at the Rio Grande Nature Center

...and continuous.

The Rio Grande as seen from the River Loop Trail

One of T'ai Chi Chih's 19 movements is called Light at the Top of the Head, Light at the Temple.

Sunrise Over the Sandia Mountains

Light Through the Cotton Wood Treetops along the Rio Grande

T'ai Chi Chih shares its roots with the ancient Chinese martial art, Tai Chi Chuan, but it's not a martial art and it's a lot easier to learn.

Ancient Petroglyphs from Petroglyph National Monument, Boca Negra Canyon

The brochure handed out by the visitor center says that "These images help us learn from those who continue to interact and reaffirm their spiritual connection with this place. Be still. You may feel another presence beyond what you can see or hear."

Albuquerque is full of clear light. I love it there. And I'm always thrilled to come back home to this light.

Tuesday Night's Sunset, Looking Out to the Channel Islands.

Monday Evening Beach Report

tonight's sunset 

Maybe the world works differently than you imagined.

Maybe your aged mother goes to live in a nursing home and you think Medicaid will throw itself into gear. Everyone is so nice. The social worker at the nursing home. The case worker at Human Services. Surely everyone wants what you want which is that your mother is cared for and that the expenses for that are covered since her money is as gone as the sun at midnight. But maybe not. Maybe the gears of the system move slowly for a reason. The nursing home gets more money from private pay clients than it does from Medicaid patients. Slow equals dough.

Maybe you have no idea how the world works. None at all.

What you know is this: That when the sun goes down, the sky turns red, turns gold, turns colors there are no words for and those colors fill your eyes, float over your skin, let your soul know that you are alive. And how can it be that while your mother lived here, you could not once, not ever, even with the lure of a martini in a travel mug, convince her to watch the sunset from the sand?

Friday Evening Beach Report: How a walk on the beach is like a lifeboat

 I am stuck. No not literally. Not in the mud. Just the mud inside my head. Still no word from the state of Iowa that my mom has made it onto Medicaid. It's Friday. Why didn't I call the caseworker? I don't know. Because I'm stuck in the mud inside my head.

Meanwhile my mom's dentures somehow got lost at the nursing home. This might be day three of toothlessness. Everyone is looking for them. No one has found them. Lost teeth were a pretty regular occurrence when my mom lived here with me. I'd find them under the bed or in the bed. Once my mom tried to retrieve them from under the bed herself and fell and hit her head. I think that was the time she ended up with a big lump on her forehead that made her look like a Klingon. One day I came home to find her and her caregiver looking sheepish. My mom had dropped her teeth in the sink and a piece broke off and was stuck in the drain. I didn't know whether to call the plumber or the dentist first. It turned out not to be a huge deal. The dentures were fixable and the piece of pink plastic was not big enough to obstruct the plumbing. I was able to do something. Now I'm just able to fret and think of all the reasons why one should not lose one's dentures.

I'm great at menial tasks while fretting. So I fretted and did menial tasks. Christmas lights, cutting up the giant cardboard box that the new ping-pong table came in. Pitching another thing or two into the Goodwill bag.Trying to decide if I should plan a visit to see my my mom soon. Deciding no. Deciding yes. Deciding no. Deciding yes. Getting frustrated for being indecisive.  I couldn't decide whether or not to take a walk either. But I finally did.

The sky looked like cotton batting

And the sand was a mirror for the sky.
Foam was dolloped on the sand like whipped cream.
And if I turned around, I could see the tops of the mountains were white too.

I walked for over an hour until the sky turned red over Santa Cruz Island. I finally got unstuck enough to text daughter C and ask if she wanted to go see her G-ma with me. 

The sunset went crazy and I went sane.

And I've gone through an entire day only being vaguely conscious of my injured ribs. I think I'll try to get back to yoga next week. Another way to be sane.

I came home and bought a plane ticket. I got out the checkbook so I can pay another million dollar bill for the nursing home. I resolved for the billionth time to floss every night so I'll never have dentures. 

It was a perfect day.

Bird of the Day: Forster's Tern

The photo is not the best, but that's the new guy there on the left.

I was obsessed with the shore birds when I moved here over three years ago. I couldn't ID a single one except for the brown pelican. I still can't really tell all the gulls apart, but there are a dozen birds I do recognize. Because I walk the same beach over and over again, I haven't seen much new in the world of birds--until today. I believe the smaller bird on the left is a forster's tern.The larger terns on the right are elegant terns.  I love them all.

And how about tonight's sunset?

Seriously.

Home

I'm home and it looks like this:

I live in a beautiful place. I am now free to enjoy the sunsets on the sand as well as the morning. My mother continues to do well in the nursing home. I've purchased tickets for a November visit. My brain is re-booting itself as it shuts down the hyper-vigilant caregiver mode. What's next? I ask myself and then remember that I have not yet succeeded at getting my mom onto Medicaid. We're close. I hope. Meanwhile, I've sent a boatload of money off to Iowa to pay the first bill. I'm still in charge of her finances--paying her insurance premiums, her credit card, handling end-of-life arrangements, thinking ahead while looking behind and all the while blessing every present moment whether my feet are in the sand or under my desk.

Thursday Evening Beach Report

My friend Ellen, visiting from L.A.

We watched the sun set behind Santa Cruz Island

The willers watched it too.

And for some reason, this photo of Dan appeared with the other photos that I selected from my iPhoto for this post. I uploaded this picture of him about six weeks ago when we were putting together a slide show for his memorial. I didn't choose it for this post, but here it is. 

This Place

View from my yoga mat. Really.

Here in paradise we have Yoga by the Sea. It seems that with the new Daylight Savings Time schedule, I might be able to attend and still cook dinner in a timely fashion for my mom.

There's also going to be some T'ai Chi Chih by the Sea too-and I will be one of the teachers.

Really. Seriously. This place is so gorgeous. But it's damp. And the wind blows like crazy sometimes. So don't everybody move here even though the very famous Tom Hanks set the story he wrote for a Very Famous Magazine here. And yeah, if the thing that happened in that story were to really happen, it would happen here. 

Where I was last night/Where I am today

Last Night's Sunset

And this morning I'm over HERE.
And HERE.

Final Photo of the DIY Beach Glass Fireplace

Here it is with the grout haze all buffed off.

In case you're wondering, the only way to do the buffing was just a few stones at a time. It really didn't take that long though. I worked on it in little sections and maybe I spent about an hour on it.

And also in case you're wondering, I think the whole project cost maybe 50 bucks. And I have lots of grout and thinset leftover. The sponges can be used again, too. 

And here's some outdoor beauty for you from tonight's walk.

And yeah, I'm still collecting beach glass--just in case you're wondering. What am I going to do with all of it? I have plans.

Report from Pillville: Upside Down and Empty

Normally the clouds pile like pillows over the mountains with a dome of blue overhead. Not today. The sky was a bowl of cotton banded by an edge of blue.

Here in Pillville the daughter was the mother and the mother was the daughter. Everything out of whack and ugly. Back to the doctor for follow up on the  cellulitis lump which once again is MRSA. Antibiotics and anti-nausea. I am anti-everything.

I'm in charge of the clean dishes and the clean laundry, I pleaded and then screamed a half-dozen times today as I sprayed my kitchen counters with Clorox. I took away the towels and replaced them with anti-environmental rolls of paper towels.

All the house guests have gone away, and if I had a hazmat suit, I'd wear it. I am anti-skin, anti-mucus, anti-pus, anti-refrigerator door handle.

The house is empty. So is the bottle of champagne. So is the spot where my mother's magnifying mirror stood. But the sunset was bursting.