Days 97 and 98: Home!

I drove across California yesterday afternoon. Stopped to admire some elk and then took an evening walk with Angel.

Today, Angel and I wandered off to a meadow. I wanted to see if any new wildflowers were blooming. Nope.

But it is good to be home. I now have eight days off to fight off this virus and maybe get some work done on this house.

And the good news? Seems that the hospital is reconsidering their decision to close the Monastic Dorm to those of us who need a place to sleep now and then. It seems that the Powers That Be had no idea just how many employees use the building as a place to crash. That gave them pause--and, for now, it remains open to us.

Day 96: Just Sittin' There...

Still struggling with the Monster Bug, I went to a quiet place after work to sit and enjoy the solitude of a vineyard. I went just to unwind. Reflect. Let the Outdoors heal me.

A Nurse friend got fired today. This hospital certainly has no problem with terminating someone. Psychiatric Nurses tend to be an odd breed. They tend to be a bit on the irreverent and anti-authoritarian side of the ledger. They also tend to get fired at the hospital I work at. Seven Nurses fired in the last year--many had been there five years or more.

So does this stop me from rabble rousing a bit given the loss of my housing? Nope. I carried the fight through channels today. One by one going up the ladder. The Director of Human Resources has promised to "look into the situation" and to "get back to you". Sounds like a blow off.

My position: Create a Hostel for the three to five Nurses who daily use temporary Hospital housing. The hospital has the empty houses. Seems like a good PR move for them. We shall see.

Onward!

Days 94 and 95: Good Bye Monastic Dorm

Worked Easter. Off to bed.

Called in sick for today as I continue to wrestle with this demon bug. Jim Beam is no match for it.

Much fear and gnashing of teeth here at the hospital. Quite a few Nurses and other health professionals stay at what I affectionately call "The Monastic Dorm". No more.

When I arrived at my room, I discovered that it had new carpet (really ugly), new artwork (unbelievably bad) and fresh paint (much too dark). The Powers That Be have decided to increase revenue by turning this old dormitory into an outpatient residence for people in recovery from substance abuse.

Which means that I will no longer have housing. They gave us all of two weeks notice.

Of course, many of us have complained. Since the hospital owns some 70 houses in the area, my proposal is to create a Nurse Hostel for those of us who travel. And also for all those Nurses who double back and don't want to risk the highways in an exhausted state.

Oh, there will be some rabble rousing around this! Probably to no avail. I have asked Security where I could pitch a tent for the summer (and since one of their employees also is affected by this)--they were sympathetic and will scour the grounds for my campsite. My own homeless camp.

Or will I sleep in my car?

Will the hospital decide that a 130 year tradition of housing Nurses on the grounds come to an end? Will a few upstart RN's affect the closing of one of the more compassionate aspects of this hospital for its workers? Stay tuned.

This could be interesting...

Day 93: Off to the Napa Valley

Looks like the Jim Beam worked. A little. Took a walk with Angel just prior to leaving for the Napa Valley. I brought the Jim Beam along with me for medicinal purposes only.

It snowed last night. Snow! Meanwhile, Vermont is having 80 plus degree weather. Massachusetts is underwater, after two non-hurricane induced, once in a century storms within a couple of weeks. Minnesota didn't have any snow in March (for the first time in 150 years). And Washington DC got more snow last winter than anybody could have predicted.

As Joni says: "It is called Climate Change". Yup.

There is no normal with the new normal...

Day 92: Drastic Measures and Jim Beam Black

I took my dog and my virus for a walk today. A short walk along the bulldozed fire trails (which has become my new thing).

Still sick (called in sick for tomorrow too), it is time for drastic measures. Since mucinex, benadryl, ibuprofen, emergen-C and chicken soup aren't working--time to change the approach. I drove down to the dome store and picked up my new flu fighting weapons: potato chips and Jim Beam Black.

Jim Beam Black is aged an additional four years. Eight years total. It has a more mature, smokey look to it. I'd like to say what it tastes like, but unfortunately, taste buds don't operate with this amount of sludge in the nasal canals.

My Nursey reasoning to this approach? What is bad for the body, must be bad for the bug! This should kill most anything preying upon my system.

Cheers!

Day 91: Year of the Goat...

Today would normally be a travel day for me. Not today. Still struggling with this feisty bug, I called in sick to work for tomorrow. I took a short walk with Angel on some of the bulldozed trails from the fire of 2008.

Joni and I have both been ill over the last week. Two middle, middle aged people sharing both our viruses and this 350 square foot cabin. We get out of the house to fill the water buckets and to walk the dog. These activities generally lead to a two hour nap.

And we watch TV. Joni opts for the Criminal Minds type shows (I've never watched the show before--but now I can say that I've seen at least 24 episodes); I like the usual Lefty Egghead stuff: Free Speech TV, Democracy Now, MSNBC with just a dash of the Food Network for some spice. (Although I'm so stuffed up I can't taste anything). Torture!

When not sleeping or watching the Tube, we read. Joni is reading Michael Pollan's book on building a cabin.

Last night I finished "The Year of the Goat" by Margaret Hathaway. Put this one into the I-think-I'm-gonna-be-a-Homesteader-and-raise-goats-and-children sort of book. Homesteading literature.

The book reminds me of Joni and myself, if we were twenty-five years younger. Margaret and her boyfriend (and soon to be husband) Karl, while living a Yuppie lifestyle in New York City, somehow get it into their heads that they want to live in the country and raise goats.

So they spend a year traveling the country to learn everything they could about goats. There is a fine line between having a hobby and having an obsession. How to determine the fine line is a matter of whether you are the person with the obsession or not. This couple became obsessed with goats.

But the book isn't really about goats. It is about the people who love goats. It is Hathaway's gift to describe these people with kindness and verve. The journey changes her.

The book is a good read. Urban, Farmer's Market loving, Solartopian types love to dream about having a farm. This couple did it--and wrote a decent book about their preparation for the experience. This is an approachable couple who even have a website about their experience. With their invitations for visits and their website, they remind me of Scott and Helen Nearing's hospitality.

I'm planning on reading their sequel. We too, would like to have a goat or two running around.

Day 90: The Scotch Broom Blooms...

Dogs don't care if you have an upper respiratory infection. They need to be walked. To be spared the indignity of having to do their business in their own yard.

So on this cold, cold morning--coffee in hand, and coughing all the while--Angel and I head out. We notice the Scotch Broom is blooming (the dog in the background in the photo above is one of our neighbor's dogs).

Scotch Broom is an invasive species that is becoming quite the problem in northern California. Yet another "ornamental" gone berserk (and an argument against unregulated global trade--especially when it comes to ornamental plants and exotic animals). Briefly, it flowers--and can be quite fetching to the eye; but after the bloom you are left with a thick stand of quick growing, hard to kill, thick stands of plants that crowd out the other native flora. After the Scotch Broom gets established, only a good burn takes them out.

Days 88 and 89: And In Flew Enza....

Joni and I have both been in the grip of what must be something much more major than a cold. Flat on our backs; drained of all energy. Coughing. Sneezing. No energy. Wiped out. Miserable.

We seem to trade off feeling a little better. Hence yesterday, Joni took care of me. This led to her feeling miserable today. My turn to take care of her today.

Out of groceries, I drove to Paradise for some provisions. While there, I stopped into the used bookstore to pick up a copy of Thoreau--as my other copy got beat up by the rain forest in Costa Rica. I had to replace it.

I drove home, put away the provisions and opened the book. Inside the book there was a business card. The business card was for the editor of the local newspaper.

Driving to Paradise, I'd been thinking about approaching this newspaper with an idea about an "I Power" column--something to the effect of encouraging others to get off their Ipods and on to their legs. A get-outdoors-sort-of-thing with a lefty, granola, enviro slant.

I took a short, snot-filled walk with Angel after finding the business card (and showing the card to Joni who thought this coincidence was a bit spooky!)--knowing that this is an idea I have to pursue.

When confronted with an incidence of Jungian Synchronicity, only a fool would not follow it. Or maybe only a fool would follow it? Either way, I am such a fool.

Days 86 and 87: Watching an Oak....

Struggling with a cold, I've only been outside to take the dog on a couple of "comfort" walks. Mostly I've been sleeping. Tried to make some mud yesterday, but after one wheelbarrow full, I abandoned Joni and went into the Cabin to take a six hour nap.

For the past few weeks, Joni and I have been trading a cold back and forth. I don't know if it is the same virus, resurrected in the other person---or a brand new bug with unfortunate timing. Joni is sleeping behind me as I write this.

I awaken and watch the tree above. An oak tree. I've been watching it leaf out over the past couple of days. Every hour the leaves get bigger. What I find fascinating is that the oak hasn't dropped all of last year's leaves yet. So the old and the new share the same branch. New growth next to dead leaves.

I've also been reading Ralph Waldo Emerson's essays while waiting for the fever to break. Specifically: "Self Reliance". I find it a little offensive that good old Ralph would write an essay with this title. After all, he didn't have to really put in an honest days work after he had the good fortune to marry rich--and then to have that first wife die after a year and a half of marriage. He was set for life in his twenties.

Unlike most of the idle rich, Emerson put his money to good use. He lived modestly. Took care of friends. And he financially supported some of the best writers America has ever produced. Thoreau built his famous cabin on Emerson's land. Nathaniel Hawthorne shared meals with Ralphie. Amongst others.

So what about "Self Reliance"? Masterful! Powerful sentences. Like this:

"It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude".

Amen.

Days 79 to 85: Manics, Friends, Ribs and Flowers...

The Blogger Gods might be angry. This is the longest time I have neglected this self-absorbed exercise in ourdoorliness.

With good reason.

I managed to bust another rib while moving into my room at the hospital. My ribs are vulnerable, having broken them three times in the past. Busted ribs are more annoying than anything. Painful.

I worked through the pain, wrestling with a few patients. It is manic season in the psychiatric world. Season changes tip bipolars into their manic phases. The moon might influence behavior; but I know the seasons have more of an effect! Working the last week was like being locked up in a room with 20 folks who have the combined personalities of Beetlejuice and Robin Williams.

Draining.

So all I had the energy to do after work was to go to the library, go to the grocery store and go to my room. Except for one delightful dinner out with some friends I haven't seen for twenty five years. Thanks Tina, William, Jim and Inga!

Back to the Cabin on Wednesday. Slept yesterday (nearly all day). Today Angel and I took our walk.

Possums!

The Lillies are blooming!

Buttercups!

Shooting Stars!

It is good to be home for the next week!!