Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Readjusting to Modern Life

Coming back to civilization after a 7 day backpacking trip is strange. I no longer have to wake up at 5:15 and immediately pack up everything and carry it to the next destination. There are so many people around and I may, at any moment, need to interact with them. Fewer critter sightings (although I did see a cat and two kittens this morning that I think might be feral or at least homeless on the way back from crossfit).

My husband and I have also been experiencing some gastrointestinal discomforts that began soon after we got home. I'm kind of glad we're both having it, but it still feels pretty awful.

There were days on the hike when I felt clear headed and ready to write and others that I felt muzzy and uncertain again. I want to get working on my solo book, but I'm not making the time for it. And I'm not making the time for it in part because by the time I'm done with my day job I just want to sleep. Maybe I can take a short nap after work and then feel more like writing.

But I'll probably wait to try that until after this, ahem, discomfort clears up. It's probably an allergic reaction to work.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Gone Fishin'

Okay, not really. I don't fish. At least, not on a regular basis. No, Ambrose and I are out backpacking.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Distilled

I figured out yesterday morning that the 2.5 gallon container that I thought had drinking water in it did not in fact have drinking water in it. Instead, the container, into which I'd made over a gallon of inroads over the weekend, contained distilled water.

Now, drinking distilled water won't kill you. It tends to be less flavorful than mineralized water, though I didn't notice that. I had instead felt lightheaded and loopy, a little out of sorts. I have to wonder now if the other container that I finished off over the weekend also had distilled water, but it's long in the recycling bin by now.

I didn't drink a lot of water yesterday because I don't like the taste of the water that comes out of the sink. But I did eat a lot of watermelon, so that's got to count for something.

I want to start feeling better, and I hope that this water mistake can be blamed for any feelings of not-well-ness I've been having because Ambrose and I are going on a long backpacking trip next week and I want to be completely ready. Back to the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness to see if we can make a better go of it this time.

As I told my co-workers, this year, instead of pressing on when we reach the small campsite on the jeep road, a tactic that ended with Ambrose stumbling into camp after 1 in the morning, we will be stopping there and finishing the trek in the morning when we reach that point. Along with another change in route, and familiarity with most of the route, the hike should be easier than last year, but that doesn't mean easy.

So I'm going to make sure I'm drinking water complete with tasty minerals for the rest of the week.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Feeding (All) the Birds

My husband puts out birdseed  nearly every day. We feed ducks and the occasional pair of geese, doves that nest in the roof of our apartment complex, squirrels and little birds of more kinds than I know how to identify.

All those birds gathering at our back door day after day provide entertainment not only for us but for passersby. Especially the four-legged passersby who scare off the birds with their excited sniffings.

They also, in turn, provide a living buffet for the birds of prey that scout nearby. Ambrose has seen them more than I have, because he's home more. But yesterday, I finally got a chance to get some good pictures of the fiercer birds that we feed.

I don't want to mess with the blinds and possibly scare it away.









Picture taken just as the bird flew off. 

It doesn't look like the bird was actually standing over any sort of substantive meal. 
Now I just need to figure out what kind of bird this is.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Resetting

Lately, I've been having a hard time writing. Or sitting down to write, one or the other. Perhaps both. My mind just doesn't feel energized. I feel fuzzy-headed instead of clear. I'm tired.

So I've taken a break from minimum word counts. I need to adjust my goals. Because doing Crossfit 4 to 5 times a week, plus preparing for backpacking trips, plus work and additional workouts 2 to 3 times per week is apparently taking it out of me.

Whatever "it" is.

Motivation? When I first felt this way a few weeks ago, I tried sitting down and typing even though I didn't feel like it. The words came slowly and I didn't enjoy it. That was the key - it wasn't fun. And I want my writing to be a time of fun, because I want it to be fun to read. The passion needs to be there.

So I'm going to catch my breath, see if this fog passes and then refocus and get to writing up my solo trip. I do think of it often, things I want to include, the way I felt out there, when the wind was driving into my face, icily cold, while the sun beat down its heat, no one around, not even trees for company...

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Irritable Bowel Syndrome Sucks

I'd like to introduce you to my pain.

This is the pain that the doctors assure me they believe is real, but they can find no cause for it. The pain that dances along the left side of my abdomen wearing spikes, almost a pressure, tingling and burning and seething. The pain that leaves a while and then comes to visit, an unwelcome guest whose unpredictability is at least as troublesome as their baggage.

It's a throb at times, a strum at others, rippling through my abdomen like a dissonant chord.

It makes my sleep restless. It brings me close to tears.

I know what gas pain feels like and this is not it. Sure, what the doctors call irritable bowel syndrome, code for "something's wrong, but heck if we know what," does include gas pains at times. And they are horrible, filling me to bursting, making my stomach feel like an over-inflated basketball ready to pop and I so wish that it would just pop and give me relief from the pressure squeezing my insides. The gas is not a good feeling, but it's not the pain that I want you to meet.

This pain is special, it doesn't stick around to be examined or codified or classified or rectified.

The doc tossed some pills in my direction, give these a try, they might help. And, to be fair, in a situation that isn't, they do help with the pain. They lessen it, but they create complications. When I work out, I sweat a lot - except when I'm taking these pills. And more irritatingly, because, to be frank and honest, it is unlikely that the FDA approved these drugs after testing them on a group of women, let alone a group of women that included women with nipple piercings, I discovered a side effect unknown to both my doctor and my embarrassed local pharmacist. They cause my well healed piercings to extrude crystalline gook that stinks, gives me an itchy rash if it stays on my skin too long, and cuts up the inside of the piercings. Fun!

So I don't take those pills for the most part. I take a mint/ginger/fennel oil pill, which has its own travails because I intensely dislike the taste of mint, but also seems to help keep me stable once I get there.

But I'm not stable right now and I haven't been for a few months. I was managing from about the end of December to the end of February, but I was on antibiotics for a while and then I went to a conference and everything kind of fell off the rails. On and off, the pain has been back, unpredictable. I can't fix it. I can't do anything with it unless I want to invite the side effects back into my life (along with not really fixing things). And I don't. I just don't.

So I'm getting to know this pain. Adjusting myself to it. Working around it and through it. I make adjustments in my diet, my sleep, my exercise routine, anywhere I can tweak to try and solve this puzzle and be pain free.

But just when I think I've solved it, the pain comes roaring back for no reason that I can determine. It frustrates me and frustrates my husband, who doesn't like to see me in pain. I waver between acceptance and the fight, because I don't know which will work better at any given time.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Shifting Goals

Last summer I had a good run of writing fiction by committing to writing fiction every day. I wrote a good deal and succeeded in my goal.

This summer I decided to do the same thing without considering the factor of my solo trip.

Last year's solo trip was at the end of the hiking season. Once I finished it, my fiction writing challenge was almost over. I could get right on to writing the nonfiction book easily.

Having already completed my solo trip, more than a month ago now, I have come to realize that I do not have time in my day to simultaneously challenge myself to write fiction and nonfiction to a word count every day. I don't want to sleep less; I can't work less; I choose not to work out less.

So I'm making a shift in my priorities. Writing will remain a priority, but it will be nonfiction that I focus on to a word count. For starters, I'm going to keep the word minimum at the same 600 words for at home and 300 when out camping/backpacking, but I might revise that because I typically do find it easier to write my solo books than to make up stories.

Just like "only" hiking 92 miles instead of 100 was not a failure, but a reframing of the goal, so too do I not see this as a break in the streak or cause for sadness. I'm consciously refocusing so that I can achieve my goal of having the solo book ready. Once it's done, I'll go back to fiction able to focus on stories without worrying about the fact that I haven't done my solo book yet.

And I think I'm going to manage to get this year's solo book out in time for Christmas gifts.