No follow up yet.

I am a good boy.
I called my primary care physician first thing Monday morning, just like I was supposed to. The appointment maker who answers the phone said I couldn't get in this week. Okay. So she (the doctor) will review the results sent over by the ER and call me for an appointment later. Good thing the emergency is over.
Casey came on Sunday and helped me string lights outside. I like to have somebody watching in case I fall off the roof. Note to others who are hanging lights: make sure you know which end will plug into the outlet when you are through. Otherwise, you might have to get back on the roof and undo everything and turn it all around. It took six strings to get around the garage. But it works out to twelve by the time you undo and redo the whole thing to get the plugs going the right way.
We also got the tree up and decorated. This is the artificial tree with lights already on it that we bought several years ago. Remember, it had white lights, so Peggie and I hand-painted each tiny bulb in red, green, orange, and blue. So now our house is all holidayee. Yippee.
We have had nice days, so Peggie has been dying fabric (you need sunshine for that) and I am in the middle of painting a door and fixing a book shelf. Something, maybe a little rabbit, has eaten the lettuce Peggie planted. Gardening is hard enough without Peter Rabbit. I could hire Br'er Fox, but he's an idiot. And he is in the wrong story. I guess I could change my name to MacGregor.

I am thankful for....a slow night at the ER.

When you are adventurers, as we are, you must beware of calm periods. Calm periods are when the adventure gods (demons?) are making plans.
During the calm period building up to Thanksgiving, we commented how glad we are that our family holiday gatherings are not drunken, violent, insult-trading, events as portrayed in so many TV shows and movies.
This period was so calm, I couldn't think of anything interesting to write about. (I just accidentally typed writhe about. hmmmm.)
Indeed, Thanksgiving was the usual enjoyment filled weekend at Margie's house. Margie has 7 grandchildren aged 3-10. Except when they are all there at the same time. Then, there are a dozen. Usually, there are no more than 6-8 adults present at these times, so doing the math, that often means that each adult has to watch 3 kids, and 6 or so are running around unsupervised in the back yard. These are always good times. We appreciate that Margie is willing to share her grandchildren with us.
On Black Friday the womenfolk, Peggie, Margie, Casey, Liz, and Vada, take a traditional get-out-of-the-house-and-leave-the-kids-with-the-men trip to Jerome. They don't need or want anything in Jerome. But it is 10 miles from children, so they go. We menfolk draw straws, arm wrestle, or flip coins to see who gets to take the older children on a hike down to the wash. The "older" children are all but the 3 year old. So Dustin, father of 3 of the "older" girls, and I left Dave with the young one, and headed to the wash. The goal was the carcass of a steer we first discovered a couple of years ago. All the children found a bone or two or three and carried them back up to the back yard, which now looks like an archaeological dig sight. The kids were all great. Only one hurt herself and had to cry all the way back, and only one was ready to be done with the hike at the halfway mark.
We have a busy weekend planned, so we drove home after dinner on Black Friday, intending to get an early start today. But the adventure gods had been watching and plotting.
About 30 minutes out of Tucson, a steel band about 3 inches wide tightened itself around my torso. Front, back, sides, all hurt. But I am nothing if not stoic, so I didn't say anything at that time. We stopped for gas, in order to start out today with a full tank. We got home and got in the hot tub to soak away the normal been-too-long-in-the-car aches. I got some temporary relief from the tight band. But, in bed, I could not get comfortable. It was late, I wanted to sleep. Finally, Peggie wondered what was wrong. So, still not wanting to complain, (stoic people don't complain) I explained about the band. After a while, she got up and looked up heart attack symptoms. That was inconclusive, so she took me to the ER at Northwest Hospital. She wasn't worried about me. She said she didn't want to wake up next to my dead body in the morning. She is sweet.
When you are 63 and you show up at the ER with chest pains, there is no waiting. In less than five minutes I was wired to an EKG and four different people had me give my name, birthdate, and describe my pain. The EKG showed no problem, so I could go home, right? Nope. The guy who had hooked me up showed up with a wheel chair and told me to get in. They would bring my wife back with me. They are keeping me? What for?
They rewired me to the heart monitor, which consisted of the finger clip, blood pressure cuff, and three electrodes on my chest. Then two different nurses tried four different veins to hook up an IV and to draw blood. I used to have good veins, but lately they always have a hard time getting one. By this time, Peggie is sitting in my room and correcting all my "understated" answers to family history questions. I forgot to mention my mother's condition, and my brother's, for example. The doctor and nurses were very informative. As the title of this post suggests, it was a slow night in the ER. So I got lots of attention. They gave me a very tasty (unpleasant) GI cocktail to rule out digestive issues. (I had been eating too much rich food for two days) They took me for a chest X-ray to see if I had a heart. They took me for ultrasound to see if my liver and gall bladder were in place. They took a second blood draw to double check the enzyme tests that can identify heart attack. They gave me a nitroglycerin pill, which would make the pain go away if it was a heart attack. It didn't. Because it wasn't a heart attack. So they gave me morphine to "make me comfortable" no matter what the cause.
Finally, at four this morning, they let me come home. They did not wheel me out. Peggie said, "It is aways a good thing when you can walk out of the hospital."
We don't know what caused the pain. So now I have to follow up with my primary and a cardiologist. There goes December. Appointments get in the way of retirement.
So now we will get our errands run this afternoon. Casey is coming to help me put up Christmas decorations tomorrow. I bet I go to bed early tonight. My sleep was interrupted last night.

Bloody Basin

Brother Don is in Cottonwood this week getting some repairs done on his jeep. Apparently a mechanic in Cordes Junction is the only one in the country who could, or would, do the repair. So I kept the week open so I could join him in some back country adventures if it got repaired in time.

It didn't.

But we don't let things like that stop us. On Tuesday I headed up to Cottonwood in my jeep. We selected a destination and took off on Wednesday. Bloody Basin is a section of central Arizona where few people live. The name derives from either: a) the frequent battles between settlers and Indians; b) the slaughter of a flock of sheep by annoyed cowboys; c) the reddish hue of the rocks and soil found in the basin. Depends on what source you believe.
At any rate, there is a Sheep Bridge across the Verde River at the bottom of the basin. There is a road from the Interstate to the bridge. There are a lot of "roads" going over hills, and into canyons, going we know not where. And, that is the motivation. We don't like knowing not.

It is deer hunting season, and we encountered numerous deer hunters. We saw no deer. The hunters we spoke with saw no deer. But we saw javelinas. Usually, if you see javelinas it is dark or semi-dark, and you see one family group. This was broad daylight, and we saw several groups. We didn't think to count until too late.
But we estimate about 20 in the space of a few
hundred yards of well shaded creek bottom.

Then we got to the bridge. While we were exploring the area, I saw this saguaro who demonstrated his kindred spirit. Apparently, he has always wondered what was over that hill. Finally, after 150 years or so, he just decided to climb over the rocks for a look.

When we left, he was still searching for that foothold. Good luck.

Broadcasters' curse?

Adventures abound!
On Monday, Peggie's group had a wonderful time couching. So much so that they have scheduled two more days to continue later this month.
On Tuesday I spent the middle of the day at the Jeep dealer getting the latest recall taken care of. We now have a new gas tank that should end the regurgitating of gasoline at every fillup. Then our new squad of Wildcats defeated yet another pre-season rival. They looked some better, but not yet good enough for the regular season, which will tip off next week anyway, ready or not.
On Wednesday Peggie had her entire art group over for the semi-regular critique session. It is a show and tell with feedback. Again, a good time was had by all. In typical husband fashion, I vacated the premises for the "hen party" (my neighbors words, not mine) since they were planning to be all over the house.
This morning, the "adventures" continued with the hacked email we all got from Peggie. If you haven't opened yours yet, don't. Delete it unread.
Then Peggie and I went to a mid-day showing of the new version of Footloose. That is just retirement luxury.

Oh, in case you don't know....the broadcasters' curse is when a sports broadcaster says something like "No team has ever come back from a six point deficit to win." Immediately followed by that very thing happening.

One week, sans adventures

This week has been without adventure. The biggest excitement was the discovery of a baby cottontail in the yard. He was here for at least two days. Made me feel better about the snake. How long can a baby rabbit survive if there is a snake? Now, no rabbit. I think it is because we don't have rabbit food in our yard. Not because the snake (who is GONE!) ate the rabbit. Yeah, that is what I think.
Peggie has been spending time in her studio, getting ready for her embellishments group. The group is five artists who take turns hosting learning events. Peggie is going to teach them couching techniques on Monday. I am pretty good at couching myself. But usually I prefer chairing. Our couch is not in a good location for reading, and the TV is in the other room. So chairing is my preference. If you want to know what kind of couching techniques Peggie is teaching, you will have to ask her. Apparently couching is easier if you have a couching foot, but Peggie doesn't, and she has adapted. Anyway, she has rearranged tables so she can get five people in the studio at once. I guess couching can be done at a table.
Okay, so that is it for now. We are excited that Wildcat basketball has started. They don't have a point guard yet, and they lost their first exhibition game. They will get better. Repeat. They will get better.

half a million acres burned

While we were in Skagway, we heard that the White Mountains were burning. We checked web news accounts and talked with tourists familiar with the area who had recent news. But, really, one must see things for oneself, what? We decided to do just that. Our favorite camping area might be so much ash.

We decided to leave Friday morning, and packed an overnight bag just in case we decided to stay the night somewhere. We took I-10 east to US 191, then to Safford, Clifton, and Morenci, where we had lunch. The price of copper has had a positive effect there, as we noticed new housing had gone in south of Clifton. Folks at the restaurant said that Freeport McMoran is planning for more immediate growth. Good jobs. Good for everybody.

We headed on up 191 and as always the scenery is breathtaking. The first half dozen vehicles we saw were parked. It is hunting season. As we got higher into the mountains we saw more and more campsites in use. Near Blue Vista and Hannagan's Meadow we started seeing burned areas. The subsequent summer rains had provided for green grass to cover the ground in the burned areas, leaving the stark contrast with the black trunks of trees. Except for Escudilla Mountain, the area near Alpine didn't look too bad. Nutrioso looked lots better than we thought it would. We decided to spend the night in Springerville so we could explore further today.

 We headed out to Big Lake. Again, there are large burned areas, but surprisingly, amazing really, there are also lots of live trees. The fire appeared to have run around aimlessly. The campgrounds around Big Lake are fine, but the area south of there, including the West Fork of the Black River are closed off. There is a map at the Forest Service office in Springerville showing half a dozen closed areas.




 We went to the Big Lake fire lookout tower. On the way we found some very nice, unburned, areas to camp. But the tower itself suffered. The wooden structure atop the metal frame burned completely. The metal chairs, table, refrigerator, and other detritus are piled within the metal legs of the tower, right where they fell when the cabin burned. The cinder block bathroom at ground level is completely undamaged. The railroad tie steps up the hill are about half burned. Anyway, we continued to Greer. That was scary. The fire came right down to the river's edge on the east side of town. We saw no damage from the fire in town. However, due to the lack of growth on the mountain side, the Little Colorado appears to have threatened several buildings. Sand bags and plastic covered hay bales are still in place. We had already seen many areas where monsoon swollen streams had jumped long established banks. It looks like this will be a problem for some time to come. New yellow warning signs are everywhere warning of flashfloods, erosion, and falling trees.

Maybe because the grasses are back, even under the pines where they normally wouldn't grow; maybe because much of the area was not burned at all; maybe because we don't have a home or business there; we were pleased that the damage wasn't as bad as we had feared it would be. Many great camping areas are still available, both in and out of campgrounds.

As we walked around today we saw elk tracks everywhere. The forest is full of deer hunters. There is a "bear country" warning poster at the campground at Big Lake. In two days we saw not one animal larger than a squirrel. I did hear an elk calling. But nothing in sight. I hope some of those hunters have better luck.

YIKES!!!

I just cleaned the keyboard because I was having a hard time getting things typed. This entry is a test to see if everything works like it is supposed to.
The title is referring to the snake skin I found in the yard. The trouble with shed snakeskin is the difficulty in determining the type of snake that shed it. Most kinds are fine. They keep the rodent population in check. Rattlesnakes do, too. But with the attendant danger to us human-types. One of the joys of tromping the wilds of Alaska and NW Canada is the total absence of snakes. Normally, I could tromp the civilized parts of my yard without regard to snakes, also. But, then, when you find absolute proof of the presence of reptiles, precautions are called for. I don't like it. Not in my yard. We live in the middle of a massive housing development. In the middle. Not on the edge. Snakes should get run over, grabbed by a kid, chewed by a dog, or just scared off before they get to our yard. We have lots of great hiding places for snakes. Yikes!
The keyboard has passed the test.
Now, if only I could be sure the snake has passed my yard....