Desert Magnolia

 Today is my day off, so I went for a walk. Which is what I do any day I have an hour free and it's not either 900 degrees out or blowing at tornado velocity or below zero. I am fortunate to live in an area close to some open space. The space is roughly the shape of a big balloon, and its perimeter measures around 3 miles, which is a perfect distance for me. For the 27 years I've been walking this beautiful open space, I've appreciated myriad birds, coyotes, lizards, silly dogs, ever-changing foliage colors, all with the backdrop of the giant Sandias.  These beautiful, simple pleasures of nature I've taken for granted. This morning I was reminded that taking anything for granted is a really bad idea. At the bottom end of the balloon of desert, I saw this. And many large trucks. And a portapotty. They were leveling and creating a big space into which who knows what will go. My heart clogged up with sadness. I had seen survey stakes over the last months, but hadn't re

 Last night I was finishing up a fresh green salad to accompany our lasagna, and I chiffonaded the basil. It was a loose chiffonade roll, and the knife bounced. I knew the second that bad boy bounced my left pointer finger was in trouble. You know that feeling, right before something ridiculous happens. And then it happens, and you wait for a sec because you have a moment before a: the blood starts, and b: the pain starts. And then both happen. And you assess.  Usually, if you're me, there may be a bad word dropped. Because I was raised by pirates. And carry on the tradition, proudly. Ahem. Anyway, there was blood, followed by pain. I managed to (almost) carve a crescent out of the top of my poor finger. It was a flap that I calmly pressed back onto the exposed finger, rinsed, held up above my head (wrapped in a paper towel) and dropped the f bomb.  Hubby, about to jump in the shower, came trotting out into the kitchen, armed with a basket of bandaids, rendered first aid, then went

 There was a time when picking up a couple packages of the white wine mussels in the frozen foods section of Sprouts filled in the seafood gap. Keep in mind, we live in New Mexico. Fish is super duper expensive and kind of sketchy here, even at Whole Foods, ok, especially at Whole Foods. I love them for some stuff, but Bezos...grrrr.. To their credit, the seafood counter professionals take pride in their work. They handpicked me two pounds of their fresh mussels today, and they did a great job.  So getting fresh fish/seafood is a treat. And I had become a bit lazy relying on those prepared white wine steamed mussels. But I've gotten fresh. With mussels. And white wine sauce. Turns out a little butter, shallots, garlic, capers, white wine, lemon juice and little time are all it takes to prep a great sauce. And then drop in the live mussels for a few minutes to (hopefully) painlessly expire and become part of our dinner. They were fabulous. Plump. Juicy. Winey. Buttery. With a sauce

 Nobody really prepares you for the day-to-day reality of medical practice. You have clinic rotations where you practice the art of medicine. You have classes where the theory of ethics is discussed at length. You have years to ingest the theory of the medicine and then begin to apply it. But the reality of staying positive and appearing neutral when a beloved patient informs you that their cancer 'is more aggressive than anyone expected', and that they have five years of a hard fight ahead of them, sucks. Balls. When a patient who made extraordinary progress over the last few years loses their brother, experiences a personal attack, and who then was in a nasty car accident which caused significant pain and is taking quite awhile to heal from and then sinks into a nasty depression? This sucks. A lot. Therapeutic distance is a concept we work with to help us protect ourselves a bit, and to protect our patients from a really honest, visceral reaction where we shout out "No w

A perk of aging is prioritizing. The way I view it, time is our one commodity. How we use it? Expresses how much we value ourselves. This realization, late for me, I realize, as many of my friends figured this out long ago, is that if we let other people waste our time, we're letting them waste our lives. Once I started looking at things like that, simple decisions, like whether to have coffee with an acquaintance that I really didn't see ever becoming closer with, became easier.  I learned to politely decline invitations. Which is liberating in many ways. All I have is my time, right now.  Things that I value enough to spend time on them: My family. Whenever, wherever, time spent is worth it. Every time. Time in nature. Walking, hiking, sitting...it all feels elemental, and fundamental to grounding and sanity, most days. Reading. Decent stuff most days, fun, beach-y stuff others. I love to read. It's an indulgence. Movies. But no scary shit or super suspense head twisting

If you've never been to Taos, you should find a way to go. It's unique in about a million ways, and never disappoints. Case in point, our recent stay. In an historic mansion. With close family and friends.  Said mansion was built in the late 1700's. Yes, 1700's. Of adobe. Thick walls of it that subdue sound and make everyone feel like they are alone in their space, when in fact they are surrounded by others. It's very cool. The house meanders, the older sections have lower ceilings. The newer sections have radiant heat, so your feet are always toasty and you feel comfy warm without the pesky central air blowing noise that most modern houses have. The kitchen, well, it's a chef's wet dream. Really. Viking rules the double ovens and cooktops. Butcher block island in the center provides ample prep space. Multiple sinks make keeping the whole space clean while large meals are prepared easy.  The bedrooms are all cozy, and private. So if one needs some personal t