All I want to do is write.  I want to lock myself away with a big table, spread out my computers and files and papers and write my ass off.  When I am away from my computer, my mind spins and whirls with words to write and things to say.  It’s easier to write than to speak at this point.  My friends ask how I am, and before I answer, I ask if they have read my blog.  It makes it so much easier.  We have a starting place versus having to catch up on so many places and spaces.  I appreciate that it could be annoying but these are the friends who I know will be there thick and thin so they are willing to take the 10 minutes and read my words.  Otherwise, the energy expenditure feels immense.  I beg: please just read it, and then ask me, ok?  Mostly, they say ok.  My world has gotten smaller at the same time my words are reaching more people.  I haven’t spent “social” time with more than a handful of people.  It’s normal in times like this to retreat.  In retreating, I am not isolating.  I am re-grouping, re-gathering, re-forming.  And, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.  I am conserving my energy.  It is a primal need to do so.
01 July, 2012 /
There is a lot to roll with these days. Panic fills the air as the smoke rises. 911 operators in neighboring counties throughout the state are inundated with midnight calls about the smell of smoke; fire departments are closing rank to protect their own backyards; rumors are flying; tourists are canceling their summer visits to our great state and the governor is attempting to calm the anxiety. Colorado is on fire and not in a good way. Yes, it is re-traumatizing to those of us who have lost homes and loved ones. Yes, we wince at the latest headlines and cry at yet another tale of woe. Yes, we wonder if it could happen again to us in our rental homes or trailers. Yes, we gather together and look knowingly into each others eyes. Yes, we wish there was more we could do for all those who suffer as we struggle to keep our own heads above water. Yes, we lose sleep and question just what is happening out there in this crazy world. It is rampant. It is impacting thousands of people everywhere. It seems almost everyone knows someone who has lost a home or is evacuated. And, there seems to be no end in site. The weather continues to not cooperate, the soil is drying up, the grass withering. Storms roll through and flash their lightning strikes starting even more fires and leaving no measurable moisture.
27 June, 2012 /
As another wildfire rages out of control near Fort Collins, my heart breaks for those who lost homes and particularly those who lost loved ones.  At 36,930 acres and zero percent containment, this fire is a nasty one.  An ‘act of God’ sparked this blaze in the form of a random lightning bolt.  Extreme dryness coupled with high winds is the perfect breeding ground for fire.  I didn’t sleep well, thoughts of these poor folks filling my mind, knowing some of what they are experiencing, only imagining more.  Tossing and turning throughout the night, I thought of what I want to say to them and those who love them.  I wish I could shield them from the inevitable roller coaster ride that results from life chewing us up and spitting us out.   Here is what I want to say:
12 June, 2012 /
I was generator challenged this morning.  Attempting to conserve power by starting our small generator, my brain found it’s well worn groove and executed the same maneuver 3 separate times even walking away between each try so as not to “flood” the poor machine.  Finally, dejected, I called David and asked why the generator might choose today of all days to cease functioning.  His usual reply, “user error, perhaps?”  Convinced I followed the proper protocol, this did not seem likely.  Having no choice but to try another approach, I switched the choke button to the opposite position and it started right up.  Only thing is, I continued to let it run on choke...   At this point in time, I have started this generator on a multitude of occasions.  My brain doesn’t feel especially foggy this morning – not any foggier than usual I should say.  But I now have scrambled eggs for brains when I attempt to think about where the choke button should be…
04 June, 2012 /
So baby, in between
Notice the blue skies
Notice the butterflies
Stop and smell the flowers
And lose it
In the sweet music
And dance with me
Cause there is beauty in the world
So much beauty in the world
Always beauty in the world
Macy Gray
Coffee in bed is the best.  I wait patiently, or not so patiently, for my husband to make the coffee before I get out of bed.  It was chilly in here mid-way through the night but we snuggled under layers of blankets and now that the sun is shining, it’s warming up.  I don’t think I could live without coffee.  I am not willing to try.  I don’t have any other vices so this one stays.  Our best “upgrade” since the fire is our jumbo size French press.  To make “enough” coffee pre-fire, we had to brew two pots simultaneously.  Now, this plump pot does the trick.  Although normally one cup does the trick for me, this morning my lovely husband gives me an extra treat of a breve latte out of his little espresso machine.  Ahhhhhh.  Coffee makes life tolerable and beautiful.
Before putting fingers to keyboard, I glanced at MSN where I often check in to make sure the world has not ended.  We are a no TV and no Newspaper family so the Internet is the only way to make sure that Armageddon has not occurred.  It seemed that it was occurring yesterday with the thick smoke from distant fires that clogged even the air in Denver as well as the swirling ash the wind kicked up at our place.  This morning David wiped the counters revealing blackened paper towels reminding us of the floating hazards in the air.  Fire and brimstone.  Hmmm.  Armageddon approacheth?
27 May, 2012 /
In the last few days, my shitter overflowed, then clogged, then clogged again.  I ran out of propane while cooking a burger, ran out of gas in the generator which then kills the internet, spilled gas everywhere trying to re-fill the tank.  The dogs are filthy, there is dirt everywhere and I discovered that a very large rodent is living with us.  And, then last night, just as I was ready take a hot birdbath and finally get clean, the water ran out....  and I still say I LOVE living in Flame.
Flame is my home.  I may be an adventurer, but I seek the comfort of home.  Last night I stayed at Jessica’s and woke this morning to the faces (and noises) of her sweet girls.  I played kiss the chubby hands with Chloe something I was inspired to do, then the commands came sharply from her, “do it again, do it again, do it again.”  I obey an obligatory order when I hear it and salute her demanding Aries nature.  Cassidy loves Roscoe and giggles as he leans his weight against her in her Snow White dress.  I am doing my heaps of laundry here today, taking a stand up shower (that’s right!) and after my therapy session in downtown Evergreen, I will return to host my radio show on Jessica’s reliable Internet. 
24 May, 2012 /
Mornings are my favorite.  When I write, that is.  What began as my first blog entry on April 5thhas now become my most reliable practice of self-soothing.  Mind you, I don’t always feel soothed to write some of the angsty things I have shared but getting it out of the old squirrel cage and onto “paper” is definitely therapeutic.  Some of my overall darkest days have been those when I haven’t written.  Hmmmm.  Doctor, do we see a pattern here?  Typically entire days don’t occur as dark.  As I shared, Monday wasn’t so bright.  Mostly I am “good” in the morning.  I like hearing the birds, I love sitting on my bed in Flame with my Mac serving as a portable heater warming my lap in the brisk morning air.  The dogs are outside playing.  We still have this dirt thing but in the morning I am not so daunted.  It’s just what is so.  We have acres and acres of dirt and soot and the dogs will get coated with it and we will have piles of towels to wash with no laundry facility in site.  Just don’t ask me about the dirt at the end of the day…
Mostly, mid-day’s are good too.  The sun shines, or it rains or the wind blows – which I must say is still a bit disturbing and these delicate plexiglass windows in Flame don’t seem like they can stand too much in the way of excessive stress and strain so I batten down the hatches and ride it out.  But days are good.  It’s when I start getting tired at the end of the day or whenever my mind says is the end of the day.  I began getting hoarse around 5:30pm last evening and still had two groups of fabulous authors to support.  I could hear the flatness in my voice, feel the fatigue in my system and just wanted to go to bed.  My peeps inspired me by their perseverance and commitment to their own writing so I had just enough gas to be with them on the calls.  Coaching authors is like the proverbial “you can lead a horse to water…” I can’t make them write.  Yet, write, they are.  They are engaged, finding their own voices and expressions – and they are sticking with the process.  It is remarkable.  They are remarkable. 
23 May, 2012 /
The time has come to turn your heart into a temple of fire – Rumi
Have I mentioned how much I love our trailer Flame?  I adore her.  I love her small dear space.  I love the coziness.  I love my drawers (yes, still talking about that!).  I love the little AstroTurf lawn we have adorned with plastic Adirondack chairs and solar lights.  I love her sweet silver silhouette which greets me as I pull in the driveway where she sits just to the right of the scorched totem pole.  I love her solitude.
We still haven’t worked out the space – but it’s only been 3 nights… The clutter gets to David yet I know we will find homes for things.  The most challenging issues are the dogs and the “home office” setup.  The two gigantic dog beds are staying although one takes up the entire kitchen floor and the other the dining/entrance area.  Dogs are happy though – and that’s all that matters.  We can move the beds out of the way during the day. 
16 May, 2012 /
Today is the day.  By tonight, we will have moved into “Flame” – our chosen name for our 1967 Airstream Overlander 26’.   Mother Nature chose a socked in chilly morning for our maiden voyage back to our property… hmmm.  Good thing silver looks good against any setting.
The dogs are restless this morning, tearing up and down the living room, into the kitchen, out the front door into the mist and back again.  I wonder just how they will tear through a 26’ trailer… More w-a-l-k-s will be called for.  This younger one, the one I will call the “baby dog” until his last breaths (which actually better never come cause I don’t want to be in this world without him but we won’t go there now…) needs lots of activity.  And now, you might think otherwise as he has settled in on the leather love seat next to me – and I am next to David – as I write and David watches a video on steel shipping containers.  Why pack when we can educate ourselves about what is sure to be our first ‘outbuilding’ on the property and will serve as both David’s office and his workshop?  True to form, we will wait until the last minute.  Thankfully, Joleen is coming for 5 hours to help us clean and get out of Dodge.
11 May, 2012 /
I received a voicemail a few days ago which in addition to the multitude of other saved messages I have from you people I treasure deeply.  This one I transcribed; these words I needed to hear and to remember.  Thank you Anne Gillespie for saying:
“Stay in the manure as long as you fricken need to.  Anyone who thinks that grief looks pretty and can be tied up in a little box and is linear hasn’t been through it.  Grief is messy and unpredictable and non-linear.  It’s really good one day and like hell the next day.  There is nothing you need to do.”
As long as I fricken need to...  What I want to tell you today is that I just want to go home.  I really really do.  I just want to go to my home.  That home.  The one that is lost forever and now is being scraped away.  That’s what I want.  I want this experiment to be over and things to go back to “normal”.  I want my bed, my sheets, my creaky staircase, and my infestation of stinkbugs in the bedroom.  I want my leopard chairs, my silver spoons that are the perfect size for a serving of agave in my coffee.  I want my beautiful stove, my claw foot tub.  I want my windows.  I want my meditation loft and my purple office.  I want to sit in there and contemplate the world and my life and think about how lucky I am to live in such a place.  That’s what I want. 
09 May, 2012 /