The Black Forest and Royal Gorge Fires

Welcome to fire season in Colorado!
 
What? Fire season, you say?

Yep...that 's what I said. We have an entire season set aside just for fires. But never in my 26 years of living here have I seen so many! Last year it was The Springer Fire in Lake George and the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs, Ute Pass, Woodland Park, etc.

I was finally able to drive down Ute Pass to Colorado Springs and not be devastated by the burn scars. Residents in the area and crews were beginning to lay out sand bags for possible landslides during the summer downpours we sometimes get when BAM! the fires erupted again. Almost a year to the day from the Waldo Canyon Fire.

First I heard about The Royal Gorge. The Royal Gorge is a huge touristy-type place and hundreds were evacuated when the fire started. Now the highways are closed, an entire prison was evacuated and its "guests" moved to another facility (we're talking hundreds of inmates) and the fire continues to grow.I was devastated. We spend a fair amount of time over there. Canon City is a great place to hang out. The Arkansas River runs there and we love to whitewater raft. The river's closed from the Gorge to Canon City as well.

If that weren't enough, I then turned on the news to get an update only to find out that the Black Forest (North El Paso County, Colorado Springs) is on fire and houses were burning to the ground. This morning over 8000 acres and 100 homes (estimate from the news) have been destroyed. 7000 people have been evacuated. No containment.

It feels just like last summer when we watched as the Waldo Canyon fire came down the Front Range and took out an entire neighborhood in Colorado Springs, burned up the forest on Rampart Range, headed towards Woodland Park and threatened our very existence.

Today the air is thick and I can barely breathe. The plume from the fire is high enough that we can see it over the mountains across the street. We are praying for rain. We've been in drought for many, many years and are desperate for rain. The people of Southern Colorado are kind, caring and pull together in times of crisis. We will survive. We just need rain...and your prayers.

This Week on Obsidian Drive

Some would say that living out in the country would be boring. No bright lights, no movie theaters, no shopping malls...

I say, "Pshaw!"

Living in Teller County Colorado might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I love it. My hubby and I love living above the clouds and awake most days still awed that the Good Lord would have it in his plan to allow us to live in such a beautiful place.

In 1986 I was living in Little Rock, Arkansas. I was attending Agape Church and one weekend in June of that year the church hosted a women's weekend. The keynote speaker asked us to write down on a piece of paper where we wanted to be one year from that date and put it someplace we wouldn't lose it. The speaker was touching on the scripture about God giving us the desires of our heart. I wrote down Colorado never really giving it a second thought. One year later, almost to the day, I moved to Colorado Springs. Talk about an answered prayer.

So much has happened since moving to Teller County. Last summer was the Waldo Canyon and Springer fires. It was a harrowing time with roads closed, evacuations of over 30,000, hundreds of homes lost, 2 lives lost and all we could do was wait it out...and pray.  During the fires I broke my right foot and all the medical facilities were closed to anything that wasn't fire related so I also had to wait that out for a couple of weeks.

Everyday I look out my front window and see the beautiful landscape before me. I see owls, elk, deer, coyotes, foxes, eagles and hear the screeching cry of the mountain lion off in the distance. In the early summer, we enjoy the beautiful simplicity of the columbine, our state flower. Hummingbirds are so curious they fly right up to us then zip away out of sight. Even as I wrote that line, one flew by.

Last summer a bear invited himself in through our bedroom window while we were at church one Sunday  morning during the fires.

A few days ago my cat, Jack, brought me a mole. Not a thing that grows on your skin and sometimes needs to be removed. A creeping, crawling, hairy, humongous mole that he caught somewhere and killed. YIKES! Then he brought me a bird. Then he and his sister, Jill, found a nest of mice under the shed, drug them out and played chase with them.

So is life in the mountains for everyone?  Heck, no! But it sure is for me. I love to hike. I love to visit the hot springs over in Buena Vista or Ouray or Glenwood Springs. I love to walk around the National Fossil Beds just around the corner from home. I also like to get gussied up (a clean shirt and pair of jeans) and head into town for the newest movie.

If you're ever in the neighborhood, honk and wave, slow down and yell, but watch out. Consider yourself warned. You might just like it and have to stay a spell.

"M" is for the Many Things She Gave Me

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. A day celebrated around the world, for there is no other person in the world whose relationship affects us more than the one we have with our maternal units.

Whatever we choose to call her, the role she plays in her children's lives is that of nursemaid, nurturer, educator, mental health professional, cosmetologist, teacher, judge, jury, correctional officer and warden all wrapped into one,  head chef, bottle washer, diaper changer, nanny, referee, physician, seamstress, party planner, coach, ump, encourager...and the list goes on and on.

Our mothers are our mothers, but as I was reminded earlier today from a reading in "Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul", we seldom know them as the great, great ladies they are. My mom was one such lady. Born Dorthy Mae Carroll, people always misspelled her name thinking surely it was Dorothy, but no, it was Dorthy and many folks called her Dot. That 'Dot' is also another word for period or so be it... or dot, dot, dot...the continuation of a thought. Both are correct in the case of my mom. She was fierce. PERIOD. She was kind. PERIOD. She was a fantastic cook. PERIOD. She had a heart easily pricked. PERIOD. She always heard my side of a story and gave me another chance. Dot, Dot, Dot.

I remember her best sitting at our Kimball spinet piano playing "All God's Children Need Someone to Love". As a child, I thought hearing her play and sing was the best thing since peanut butter (and if you know me well, you know how I love my peanut butter!!). It was from her that I got my love for music. When I began piano lessons in the third grade, I practiced hour after hour and if I sounded anything like my son did when he began taking saxophone lessons, she had to have been grinding her teeth or screaming into a pillow sometimes. All I can say about that is God love her! Because all those lessons led to a life filled with the love and joy of music.  (As a side note, my son actually won his age group at the Denver Jazz Festival when he was in the 10th grade....so all my screaming into pillows and the literal crawling of my skin paid off, too.)

My mom taught Sunday School for as long as I can remember during her time on Planet Earth. Seems to me she taught Adult Women's classes and they always seemed to love her. I recall getting out of bed every morning, early, and getting ready for school only to find her just where she'd been the morning before: at the kitchen table studying her lesson for the following Sunday morning. I never told her, but I was impressed by her stick-to-it-ive-ness, her allegiance to the women she taught, and her love for the Lord of whom she taught.

Mother loved to sew. She made clothes, but the thing I most remember are these 17th Century dolls she used to make. The were hand sewn and the faces hand embroidered with yarn hair she sewed on. The dresses they wore were beautiful and they even had little pantelettes. My niece, Pam, my eldest sister's daughter, named them Toots, because that's what all the grandkids called mother. Pam said they looked like Toots. And they did! And to this day, I think it's safe to say we all have a Toots doll proudly displayed somewhere in our homes. Mine is wearing a dress made from fabric she used for a dress sewed for me in high school. No one is allowed to touch my Toots doll. She's almost 40 years old now and if she's like me has brittle bone disease. She's a prized possession, made with love from my mother...a great, great lady. As a matter of fact, when Mother had the coronary that sent her to the Great Beyond, she was working on a Toots doll for someone who never received it. The fabric and the pattern was neatly laid out on the sewing machine table right where she left it when she fell ill.

So to my mother, now in the arms of Jesus, I say, "Mother, you are a great, great lady and I am thankful you were my maternal unit on Planet Earth.

Message to the Pamelonians

I must issue a disclaimer here. The title 'Message to the Pamelonians' is actually taken from my niece Pam's husband's updates on Pam's breast cancer battle and sojourn through the world of chemo, radiation , and surgery.  Pam is still taking chemo, but has not been able to receive it the past two weeks because of lower numbers in her blood work. My sister, her mom, tells me she can see the disappointment in her eyes and demeanor when things don't go as planned, but Pam is a go-getter and has done her research and is taking her vitamins and eating right and kicking cancer's behind.

For those of you who have been praying for her, thank you, and KEEP IT UP!

Last week Don and I received an invitation to her daughter, Caroline's high school graduation. I remember when Caroline was a precocious little girl who knew me as "the one who draws". She's grown up to be artsy and creative as well, so hopefully I will be able to one day say, "she's my great-niece who fill-in-the-blank". For now, she's the girl who loves her mom, takes care of her, has awesome videos on You Tube and is about to rock her world.

I can't imagine how proud Pam is now of the daughter who is graduating from a Science Magnet school in Little Rock and heading off to college, all in the midst of her mother's battle with breast cancer.

Pam has been named The Race for the Cure's Honorary Survivor for 2013. She's honored and is fighting the good fight.

Pam: I love you, girl.

From "the one who draws",
Hazel

All Because of Ryan White...

Yesterday, as I was lying on the couch resting (and, yes, the kittens were there as well) because I was having an over-the-top RA day, I went channel surfing. I happened upon an episode of Oprah's " Where Are They Now?". One of the people she followed up on was Ryan White's mother. Remember him? The young man from Indiana who made all the headlines when he was diagnosed with HIV back in the day?  Yeah! That Ryan White.

I have a special place in my heart for Ryan and his mother. Ryan taught us all what it meant to be ridiculed, persecuted, hated, made fun of and ostracized...and all for something that was no fault of his own, and totally out of his control. My heart aches just thinking about what that child lived through!

All because of Ryan White many of us learned that people with HIV/AIDS are just that: people who, for whatever reason, have a horrible cross to bear. I understand that cross, because my family lived it, too. Ryan's tenacity, quiet and gentle spirit, and strength of character were lights to my son, Austin, and me when we lived through the death of my first husband, and Austin's dad, Marc.

No matter how the disease is transmitted, it is horrible. And no one deserves it. I remember when Marc was first diagnosed. It was two weeks before his untimely death giving none of us an opportunity to grasp the severity and reality of the situation. We didn't get to say goodbye. We didn't get to hold his hand. We didn't have the opportunity to tell him all the things we wanted to say. Marc and I had been divorced for six years when he died. He lived in Houston, we, in Colorado Springs. We were still close...we had a son together and wanted nothing more than to do right by him.

When he died, it was surreal, like a bad dream. I thought of Ryan White and how he was treated by those who chose not to understand, those who lived in fear of the unknown. I had chosen many years before to become educated about the disease. It was while I was in nursing school in Little Rock that the AIDS epidemic hit. I assisted with procedures on AIDS patients, bathed them, fed them...and, in those days, none of us knew what kind of precautions to take. We only knew we felt helpless and inadequate in the care of the men who presented with this monster of a disease...a disease that mutated itself every four hours. So when Marc passed, it was a relief of sorts that he wouldn't suffer anymore. He had pneumacystis pneumonia, a symptom if the disease, and the pneumonia actually took his life.

How do you tell your child his father has AIDS? Worse than that, how do you tell  him his father will never get better? At the time, it felt like we were walking through a dream sequence that never ended. Twenty-four years later, I don't think about the illness anymore. I think about the man and how fortunate we were to have him in our lives. Austin and I live our lives, knowing that we were both fortunate and blessed to be a part of his life.

All because of Ryan White...whenever I hear his name, see a photo of him, I remember Marc...and smile.

The Best Wedding Anniversary Ever!

Yesterday (4/21/13) was our 7th wedding anniversary. We didn't really make any plans, just wanted to play it by ear...and play hookey from all of our regular responsibilities and obligations. Late in the morning, we piled into the car and drove over to Salida and did some window shopping. When our appetites got the better of us, we asked around and local word of mouth pointed us to Amicas, Pizza and Microbrewery in Historic Downtown Salida.

I walked in with no expectations; I only knew I was craving a fantastic salad. Not just another iceberg lettuce, dollup of cheese and out of season tomatoes salad. So here's how it went: we walked in to find people waiting in line to order at the register. The menu is on the wall behind the register. So much to choose from. And lots of vegetarian options, for those of you, who like us, are so inclined. I ordered a lunch portion salad and a small Vesuvio pizza, which had artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, mozzarella, basil  and marinara sauce. Don ordered vegetarian lasagna and a salad.

The salads arrived and I'm super glad we only ordered lunch-sized portions. They were enormous and colorful and delicious with the restaurant's signature dressing.  The main course arrived and it was more than we could eat.

The service was great; the atmosphere casual, relaxed and friendly. The staff was courteous, welcoming and helpful. Check out their website at http://www.amicassalida.com/menu.  Take and back, eat in, take out....they have it all. Visit them if you're in the area. You won't be disappointed.

Later in the day, we drove over to Mount Princeton and took lots of pictures. All in all, it was a peaceful, quiet day spent with the man I love, away from all distractions. The best anniversary EVER!
www.amicassalida.com

If Life Was an Expletive

I grew up in a very conservative home in the South. My parents didn't drink, party or cheat on their taxes and didn't knowingly hang out with people who did. My dad quit smoking when I was a tween and I remember how proud I was of him. He had been smoking since he was a young boy. He told me he used to sneak off and smoke his daddy's cigarettes when he was about nine, so to quit some 50 years later was a big deal.

My mom was a Sunday School teacher, teaching ladies classes for more than 25 years. She was a teatotler, thinking anyone who drank was surely going to have quite a time convincing St. Peter to let them past the Pearly Gates. She didn't cuss (unless she dropped a casserole on the floor and then she'd say "just hear it kids! don't say it!) Then her choice of words, by today's definition, might be considered just a temper flare and not ugly at all.

Daddy, on the other hand, knew every inappropriate stereotypical name for every ethnic group on the planet...and used them! He also had a colorful word to describe incessant complaining....come on, now. You know what it is. It's an adjective that freely flows in today's society used to describe a woman or girl who even looks at someone cross-eyed. Rhymes with witch, stitch, rich....there you go....you got it.

Tonight I was flipping channels and stopped at a reality show to see what was what. One of the men on the show was having a meltdown and  it went something like this: "If you can, bleep bleep bleep with a clear conscience then you can bleep bleep bleep then bleep bleep and I quit!"  Seriously?

Sometimes I wonder how our society has come to the place where expletives are so widely accepted. I was watching an episode of 20/20 several years ago and the reporter was interviewing students in a high school in a large metropolitan area. The story was about inappropriate language, swearing, etc. He asked one student if he swore and the teen said yes, he did. Then the reporter asked why. The kid said, "Are you kidding? Everybody talks like that!"  My jaw dropped.

First of all, not everybody swears. It just seems justifiable, if a person can convince themselves that everyone does. Why, I can remember when I was growing up that it was a REALLY bad thing to say "That sucks!' Now it seems just a regular way to describe raw, hurtful or ill feelings. Does it make it right? No, I don't think so. Recently someone said to me in reference to his job that "it sucks to be me". I sincerely felt badly for this person. However, was it really about his job...or was there something else going on deep inside himself? I'm not a therapist, but I am old...have been around the block a couple of times..and I recognize when someone is struggling. And if he's reading this, I hope he knows it really doesn't suck to be him. Yep, I used his word...even though I don't like that word used in that way.

I guess I've noticed ugly talk more lately because as much as gets bleeped on TV there seems to be just as much that doesn't. And what's more amazing is that to mention Jesus is what the networks consider to be the bad word (unless it's been used to take the Lord's name in vain and that appears to be perfectly acceptable). Odd how that works, isn't it?

Please tell me I'm not the only one who's had enough. Please tell me there are lots of you out there who aren't totally desensitized.

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