I’ll be spending the next few weeks culling through old posts, removing some that were contrived, forced, posted for the sake of posting something. In the meantime, I think it’s important to make some introductions. Six years and all. Meet Frankie and Sasha. These girls currently live with me part-time, as a matter of custody arrangements (more on that later), and I get the joy of spending every other week spoiling them with hikes, swims, and way too many baby carrots. My sweet, loyal, neurotic, too-smart Carmen passed away in November 2013 at 5½ years old due to kidney disease, which she had battled most of her too-short life. Just three weeks later, I came across a scraggly, injured, smelly black puppy aimlessly wandering the mean streets of Beaumont, TX. She was worse for the wear and looked like spare parts, but she was the epitome of friendly. We wrapped her in a towel and she promptly fell asleep in my arms. I dubbed her Frankenstein’s dog, which was shortened to Franki...
It’s been over six years since my last visit here. What can happen in six years? So much. You can end a relationship. Begin a new one. Finish a degree. Change careers. Lose a dog. Find a dog. Get engaged. Get another degree. Get another dog. Buy a house. You can turn 30. Go to therapy. Work through trauma. Pursue another degree. End an engagement. Lose a house. Find a home. I’ve missed writing here, but the idea of returning has loomed, intimidating, ever on the horizon of next month, next year, when I have time, when I have purpose. I’d like to try again, if you’ll have me. Six years ago, I asked for change. I asked to be brought “the new, the challenging, the adventurous. Give me opportunities to grow, to learn, and demand more from me than I’ve ever put forth.” I don’t remember writing those words, but regardless of my faulty memory, the universe has delivered. Having now gone back to read through the planned posts that never made it publishing, I realize that some things ...
At least let's hope so. I began today with a 3-hour visit to an orthopedist and came out with a band-aid on my knee. Oh, the irony. I've actually torn my ACL, again, along with the lateral meniscus, again. Just when I was getting my balance back, climbing strong, making real improvements and feeling great about myself, I'm careless and take a fall that could have been prevented, or at least minimized. A rewind button would be really, really handy right about now, as I look gloomily at 2 months in an immobilizing brace, 4 months of physical therapy and 6-9 months off of climbing. Lame doesn't even begin to describe this impending year. Now I am seeking out the silver lining of the big dark cloud that just unleashed a downpour on my parade. Surely there is something rosy here, right? I'll have an allograph, meaning this time they won't be removing a tendon from somewhere else in my body to replace this one. Big plus. Hopefully it will speed recovery time, and lea...
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