Girlfriends Are the Best!

When I was young, all my friends were girls. We would talk about boys, chase boys, and obsess about boys. But we were not friends with boys. We were 13. 

I lived in the valley, and, yes, I was a "valley girl." I still curse that movie. Gag me! Totally! And I talked like that. I even had a copy of how to be a valley girl! (And apparently, I should have hung onto that book!) 

From valley to full-on 80s. I got a perm and cut the collars out of my sweatshirts so that they hung over my shoulder. I practiced dive rolls across our front lawn until I could do one perfectly at "top" running speed. OK -- if you have no idea what I'm talking about right now, you may have no business reading this post any further! But because I'm practicing tolerance in 2020, forced tolerance due to COVID, I'll give you a hint: Flashdance! Girls remember the dive roll and that she was a kick-ass dancer. Guys remember Jennifer Beals pulling the cord that released a bucket of water over her head! 

But I'm seriously digressing. 

Today I was returning from SUP yoga when it hit me that my friends are all girls again. I never thought I would have girlfriends again. In my 20s I climbed -- A LOT -- and all my friends were guys. I never thought I'd see 30 and I certainly never thought I would live to be old, you know, 31! 

Somewhere between 31 and 49 my entire life shifted. I left the world of traveling the globe to climb mountains for sandy beaches, sunrise runs, and sunset paddles. The people I find interesting have something worth listening to because they've lived a whole life, not just part of an existence. And at the end of the day, I want to chat with one of my girlfriends to hear about their day and share mine. Not because I don't like the company of boys but because my girlfriends are important. They are part of me and I like to think I am part of them. Some of my friends I've known for a lifetime and others are new. But we're all the same. We're girls. And together we can talk about boys. 

Yesterday my childhood bestie sent me this picture. It was taken in a photo booth at the Northridge Mall in the San Fernando Valley. We were 13. A lifetime has passed since this picture was taken and we are not those two little girls anymore. But I can't imagine another person I would rather like to talk to than her. 

I feel so lucky! I live where the sun is out everyday. It's summer year-round. I'm 1.7 miles from the Pacific Ocean (as the crow flies). I'm pretty well assured it will not snow within 100 miles of my house and I can permanently retire my windshield ice scrapper. But more than that, I have an amazing group of girlfriends near me. And even my girlfriends that are far away are somehow so close at the same time. Today when I think about getting older, I imagine wearing red hats with purple feathers, drinking elixirs on the beach, and watching the sunset over the ocean. 

To all my girlfriends -- you are amazing and I love you all! 

Just after 9 pm

Ten years seemed anti-climatic. I scheduled my final oncology visit for 9 am to celebrate 10 years. I can't even remember what I did. I likely walked Theodore. Maybe I had a cider. In the end, it was just another day.

Just after 9 pm today, I realized it was May 18th. May 18th eleven years ago doctors ripped apart my body and tore out what was left of my soul. Today. I'm alone. I finished a few things and I'm just sitting here. Listening to music. Crying. Again. I can't get out of my skin. I can't run. And I gave up hiding a long time ago. Theodore follows me around the house. For now, he's snuggled up next to my left leg. His breath is warm and I can feel him breathe.

In light of the pandemic, we're told we'll find a new normal. There is no new normal. It's not magic where you wake up one day and the past doesn't hurt anymore. It does. It is still part of you -- part of me. My past is the house that built me. It doesn't matter how many rocks I throw in the river or how many times I burn sage I can't escape the ghosts.

But time heals. This year, I didn't even realize it was May 18th until just after nine. Next year, will I even remember on May 18th? Or will it be the 19th? I know that I will never be the same. I will never be that amazing girl so full of life. It was "lifed" out of me. Besides, after all the surgeries, I'm not sure if I'm still a girl? If all your parts have been riddled with disease and removed, are you still a girl? I know I am not whole. But am I still a girl? 

I was told I am like a tree bending in the wind. All of the things I have been through have made my tree strong, deeply rooted. That had I not gone through those things, in the first storm, I would break. But even big tall beautiful trees fall over.

Some days it is just a matter of walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Saying thank you. Thank you for these steps. Thank you for Theodore. Thank you for the sun, the moon. Thank you for the flowers. Thank you to the universe so that the universe will listen, reach out its hand to carry you. Today is one of those days.

Raise a glass to another year. In search of normal only to realize I've never been f-ing
normal! 

Today Begins my 50th Year

Today at 8-ish AM Pacific Standard Time, I turn 49 and enter my 50^th year. I’m certainly far from perfect. I tend to learn the hard way. I often speak then think. I react. I move through life full-on. I take everything in. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don't look back. And I have no regrets.  

In 49 years of living on the planet, I've learned a few things.

1. Everything that happens in my life and the lives of those around me is not all my fault. Failure to take responsibility stunts growth. Most times circumstance is dual-authored, each contributing equitably. I believe that in order to learn, I must first take ownership of my contributions. I have also learned that that does not mean taking responsibility for the contributions of others – that stunts growth like a record with a scratch.
2. Use the word "I" more than "you" when placing blame or reflecting on an incident. I've received more than one email, text, letter, or phone call filled with "you's." Personally, I've committed the "you" crime on more than one occasion. Just recently, I received an 8-sentence email that contained the word "I" twice and "you" ten times. I chose not to be part of that friendship any longer. I also choose to write my future using "I" more often.
3. The biggest travesty of the 21^st century is the cell phone. It is as if being rude has become part of our culture. When did it become acceptable to take a call while sitting across the table from someone? Or in line at the grocery store? I'm not so nice when someone refuses to acknowledge an employee ringing up their purchases. It often comes out like this, "This beautiful [lady or man] deserves your attention and respect you self-serving prick."
4. It’s not my job to count another person's mistakes (obviously still learning; see #3 with my response to ill-mannered cell phone users).
5. Embrace failure, it's the step right before success.
6. Bucket lists are for wimps. If there is something you want to do, do it. I'm often criticized for my lifestyle, but there is not a damn thing on my bucket list. When I show up at the pearly gates of heaven or the iron fists of hell, I will have no regrets. I once read: I do not want to do the same thing every day for 90 years and call that a life. Amen, sister!
7. Typically, things are more beautiful for what I don't see than what I do see. Take an extra minute to sit quietly. Feel those things you can't see. I recently visited the Gloucester Cathedral in the U.K. In the silence, I could imagine the world created in a Ken Follet book.
8. I've met some of the most interesting people on planes. I was maybe six or seven years old when I remember my first flight. My brother and I visited the pilots in the cockpit and received our "wings," a pin for our lapel. I remember looking at the world through the window of driver's seat thinking it's all right there – the whole world is waiting for me. Since then, I pick the brains of my fellow travelers. I make friends, many of whom are still friends to this day. Don't know what to say? Try, "Where are you going?" You're on a plane for god's sake!
9. Environmentalism is not a fad. I carry my own bamboo fork and spoon (TSA approved) and travel mug capable of eating or drinking from. I use a Final Straw. I respect the ground I walk on and the oceans I swim in. Of Recycle, Reuse, and Reduce – reduce is my fav.   
10. Above all else, I am a human being. I make mistakes. I say things I wish I could take back. I've hurt people – and some of those people are very close to me. But each day
    I live a more authentic life. Each day I embrace the bad and the good in me and the people around me. I strive to make decisions that positively impact my life and the lives of those around me. The only thing I can do today is live my best life.

All we can do is the best that we can do.

Happy birthday to me. I am alone today but surrounded by all of those that have touched my life in one way or another. Thank you and may your next year be more amazing than this one. 

Some Words Just Change Meaning

I've noticed in my lifetime that some words lose their meaning, while others change their meaning. Some words (and names) are retired forever. Hashtag -- you mean number? Hitler -- retired forever.

Campfire is another such word. I set out this evening to watch a movie. It was by Campfire Productions, a television production company founded in 2014. At the beginning of the movie an arrow crosses the screen, the word "campfire" is seen just above the arrow and a small campfire graphic displays just left of the word. The only noise is that of which a small campfire would make.

Having decided to donate all of my birthday and holiday money to the Camp Fire this year, I went to Paradise in late November. What I saw took my breath away. When I read the words across my screen "campfire" I was right back there, in Paradise. The sound of the campfire coming through my computer's speaker literally stopped me.

I realized that the word, campfire, has taken an entirely new meaning. And I didn't live in Paradise. I have a house, all my belongings, my dog, my car. But nonetheless, that word moved me. And the noise of a crackling campfire stopped me.

I met several people while in Paradise. The first person I met was an insurance adjuster. She was kind. She asked if I was an adjuster. I told her that I wasn't. I told her I was there to find out how and where to donate money to the victims of the fire.

I watched as crews began the arduous task of restoring utilities, removing trees, and cleaning up in the wake of the fire.

The trees were marked. One by one the marked trees were felled to the ground and cut into rounds. The rounds left behind, often the only thing on the property other than very large piles of rubble where once a house stood.

The burned houses were ghostly. I knew that many people lost their lives inside their homes. My mom told me she heard on the news that every vehicle with an "x" meant that the vehicle had been searched for missing persons. That only added to the sinking feeling in my gut.

Life once was in each of those houses. Birthday parties, white elephant gift exchanges. The rooms were decorated. Photographs hung on the walls. Secrets stored away in the closet. Friendships made. Lovers met.

The insurance adjuster said she had never seen anything like this before in her career. She said that no one could comprehend this without actually seeing it in person. I believe her.

I found what I was looking for and far more than I wanted. An emergency animal shelter was constructed from tents that are set up for weddings and large events. But, instead of parties, the tents had kennels with animals lost in the fire. Hundreds. One volunteer estimated 500 animals were lost in the fire, including dogs, cats, hamsters, bunnies, horses, and other farm animals.

I dropped off Theodore's old crate. I asked where to donate money and how to do that. I left.

My final stop was to drop off donations I'd gathered in Truckee, water bottles, sleeping bags, jackets, rain suits. I found the Oroville Hope Center's warehouse. The Hope Center rented two additional warehouses -- one for donations and one for victims of the fire to pick up boxes of supplies.

The warehouse was about half the size of a Costco and completely full. Tables stretched in rows from one end to the other with sorted clothing and supplies. Boxes were put together for families to pick up (at the other warehouse).

It was mechanical in nature. I drove up. Volunteers emptied my car. I drove away. The next car drove up. Meanwhile, inside, volunteers sorted the wares placing them on appropriately categorized tables. Oddly, the warehouse was so clean. It was a stark contrast from where I had just been.

After dropping off my donation I stopped to buy a bag of oranges. It seemed odd to buy oranges. I later juiced them and drank fresh squeezed orange juice for a week.

I would think of the Camp Fire every now and again as I heard from friends that lived in Paradise and the surrounding area.

But if I was being completely honest, the Camp Fire has shifted space from the front of my mind to occupy another part of my brain where I don't think about it. And then something like a production company will bring me back.

I know that people are still reeling in the aftermath of the largest, most destructive, and deadliest fires in our history. But for the rest of us that are not right there, it has begun to take a backseat. It's not something we hear about on the news anymore or read about in the paper. But it happened.

And what happened was a shift in the meaning of the word campfire. Things are a certain way and then, they're not. 

Recent Justification I'm a Decent Human Being

Recently I had to fill out paperwork justifying that I'm a decent human being. I answered questions about my moral aptitude, moral compass, volunteerism, and community spirit. I had to justify why I was -- or am -- a good person. Further along in the paperwork I had to provide four references. Individuals that would substantiate my morality, authenticity, and integrity.

I have to go down the references side road for a minute. References are absurd. Who is honestly going to provide a shitty reference? "Hey Bob, will you be my reference? I know I promised I'd water your plants and get your mail, neither of which I did. And that time you pissed me off, yeah it was me who keyed your car. But I was hoping you'd say something positive about me?" Really? Come on. You're only ever going to ask the people who'll vouch for your awesomeness.

Nonetheless, I had to ask four people to vouch for me. One told me to go public in the People's Court (social media) to expose the "ass for what she is" (I'm not the ass in this story). Another wrote: you didn't [bleep] her? To which I replied: that's not part of my rehabilitation. A third wanted to give someone a piece of their mind only for me to say "keep walking" to which he replied "if I'm called, I'm going to use this incident as an example." The fourth person has been a personal reference for my awesomeness for so long, I didn't even call her to ask.

Tonight I was cleaning out old files. For some reason I've kept every certificate I've ever received. Ever. I am awesome. I have certificates proving I'm a good citizen...from 1982! I have thank you cards and certificates of gratitude from far off places, like Nepal for donating 200 lbs (yes, pounds) of clothing. I have congratulation and thank you letters from the Bozeman City Commission for my appointment and work on affordable housing and neighborhood recognition. Along with this supporting documentation of my moral aptitude, I have several, maybe 20 or more, certificates of achievement for all sorts of weird stuff. I'm certified to use fire as a means of habitat rehabilitation in the State of Florida. I am certified to save your life should something befall you in the backcountry and dig you from the debris of an avalanche. Buried in the pile of certificates was my favorite:

Congratulations! You won our drawing contest. Unfortunately, we are unable to use your artwork for our cover as it does not fit the overall message we're hoping to convey. 

Love it. I'm a winner and a loser in the same paragraph!

Filed directly behind "Certificates" was "Credit". Since purging files was the task of the evening I continued. The credit file contained things like the payoff documents for my house in Montana and Colorado, an old speeding ticket I got in Utah. And one other ticket -- dog off leash from Boulder, Colorado marked "paid". I couldn't help but laugh at the irony in finding this gem. The reason I was filling out a form justifying my worthiness all started with a dog off leash. Only this time in California.

In the old west (Montana and Colorado) dogs off leash are handled quite differently. In Colorado it costs $50. But in California you have to prove you're a decent human being. Prove your moral compass hasn't gone haywire since your certificate of good citizenship in 1982. Find four people to justify that you're rehabilitated from the heinous crime of walking a dog off a leash.

And in Montana? Well, that's a funny story. I was in Ecuador climbing and my housemate was watching my dogs in our downtown Bozeman home. He opened the door and in a split second all three dogs (one his, two mine) ran out to the street where a man was walking by. One of the dogs bit the man. My housemate felt horrible. He helped the man and assured him that the dogs were all vaccinated and that if he wanted to have the wound checked out just bring the bill back to the house. The man, in his late 70's, early 80's, went to the care clinic. He came back to the house with a receipt and knocked on the door. The dogs, SAFELY INSIDE THE HOUSE, started barking. My housemate was not fast enough getting to the door so the man decided he would just leave the receipt behind. He opened the door and walked inside. Inside the house that contained the dog that actually bit the man just two days earlier. Inside a house that was not his, his friends, or his relatives. When he walked through the door, he called out, "Hello. I'm just dropping off the receipt from the care clinic for the dog bite."

My housemate came in from out back, paid the man the $30 or so for the care clinic bill. On the way out, the man patted each dog on the head. And my housemate shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

And that is how a dog off leash is handled in Montana.

(Connie Garrett aka Samaara Robbins -- apparently still running with dogs off leash!)

Today Things Are Amazing -- Check-in

I woke up this morning like most days “ah! Good morning Theo my snuggle bunny.”

It's been a month and I have yet to eat at a chain restaurant - including Starbucks, picked up a few things at a "big" supermarket, shopped at a store-in-the-box, or really even left my little community in Truckee, California.

What I've learned is that I can do without a lot of things that I used to have to have. And I have resources that I never knew I had.

I'm converting my fifth wheel to a tiny house. I need a table saw to rebuild my closet that I'm moving from one area to another. I was turned on to Truckee Roundhouse. It's a community "makerspace". They have everything I could ever imagine. And it's heated. Friday I attend an open house and tour the space. I'll be building my closet next week. My goal is to have my place ready to host my friends for the Olympics. Tic Toc. I recently confessed that if I still shopped at Lowe's I would have purchased a table saw. For one project. Really? Do I need a table saw? Maybe, but not right now.

When I began this journey, I shopped at Trader Joe's. I've since stopped. Trader Joe's has a horrible environmental track record. In 2016 it settled a case with the EPA for violations of the Clean Water Act. Trader Joe's will be required to pay a $500,000 fine and spend up to $2 million in repairs to refrigeration equipment. The grocery chain is constantly under fire for is overuse of plastic packaging and consumers are demanding (and receiving to some extent) better quality. However, the sustainable agricultural watchdog group, Cornucopia Institute, cautions consumers about organic store brands. Trader Joe's remains secretive about where it resources it's store brands. Earlier this month, a petition was launched by Crate Free Illinois urging Trader Joe's to stop buying pork that uses gestation crates in its supply chain. According to Chicago Tonight "sows kept in crates have lower bone strength and muscle weight and are more likely to exhibit abnormal behaviors, such as repetitive bar-biting." You might think, who cares? Remember that the food you buy comes from somewhere other than the shelf you found it on.

What makes a great photo - organic and cheese - two favorite things, is just that a great photo. There are so many other things I'll miss about Trader Joe's, but for now it's sayonara baby!

My special find: Natural Grocers. I've already spoken about Natural Grocers. I still love it! All organic produce. Always. I don't even have to think.

I'm also really loving New Moon in Truckee (don't hold their website against them, they're re-building). I also found an amazing company Urban Moonshine. I purchased, at New Moon, the Citrus Digestive Bitters. I'm a bitter freak (ha ha!). I am really enjoying this blend and look forward to trying some others.

I came across an Etsy store for Un-Paper Towels. Super environmental, super minimalistic. No waste, no storing rolls of paper towels. Mine are on the way! Here's a little tidbit about Etsy -- most of the stores are local, community based, hand-crafted. And there's a ton of stuff on Etsy.


Along the lines of environmental stewardship, what's with the junk mail! I've decided that should cancer come to claim my body, I'm going to reply to all of the credit card offers and charge to the max! I'm going to go out in style! In this pile of mail, I can literally charge over $200,000. Really? Not OK for so many reasons!

One bonus of living local and making my dollars count is that my credit card bills are decreasing rapidly. I don't have a lot of credit card debt, but I had a revolving balance at Lowes -- not anymore. I was the queen of "just one more camera lense" from Best Buy -- not anymore. I'd cruise the sale racks at Penny's, Macy's, and Nordstom Rack -- not anymore. I don't even like Penny's or Macy's. Sorry, I'm human and can't say the same for Nordstrom Rack. I love Nordstrom Rack! I traded Nordstrom Rack for REI. SUPER LOVIN' REI!

I find that I have a ton of time on my hands and time is amazing. Time is a commodity -- it's the only commodity we don't get back. Once your time is spent, it's gone forever. Leaving existential thought and belief about time out of this conversation, time is all we have to spend. Having sat at the helm of the chemotherapy brigade, I really value my time. Because my side project: 21 Days to Happiness includes daily exercise, I'm out everyday. Of course, my right foot is not a happy camper, but I'm out there. I've discovered there is no poop fairy. I've made a very conscious effort to pick up after my favorite four-legged friend Theodore -- even "off piste". This is in-line with my actual New Year's Resolution, which is to be the best version of myself.

I've found new snacks that I can make. They're super delish. Thanks to Trina at Big Water Studios for the great idea and to Kathi Keville for sharing some great recipe ideas for peanut butter (or almond butter) protein snacks. Here's a simple recipe: A blob of your favorite nut butter, 1 Tbps of protein powder, a little cinnamon, cardamon, and ginger. mix it up, adding more powdered ingredients until it shapes nicely into a ball and tastes good. Wrap in parchment paper to take with you.

Of course, I'm enjoying the tough days at the office...especially the commute. :) Practice "happy." It's a thing!

Sharing Ideas with Woody

A few weeks ago I started an experiment -- can we really shop completely local. Buying from CSAs, farmer's markets, family-owned, employee-owned, and co-ops. Since then I've dedicated my shopping to a bit of pre-planning research and re-con missions to, what I'm calling local, shops.

On December 27th I posted Commitment to Community outlining my "plan". Since then, I've been shopping for food, clothing, wool dryer balls, eateries, hardware-type items, and sunglasses. I've also researched some of my favorite addictions, namely climbing gear. I've done extensive pre-planning for grocery stores within 30 to 40 minutes of my house looking for ethical and responsible places to shop that meet the definition of "community" or "local".

Yesterday, I listened to a FB post of Woody Harrelson. Not only to I love Woody ("Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly..." and Natural Born Killers) I love his message. It's what my experiment is all about: making your dollars count.

A few days ago I learned some really cool things. Scheels is a HUGE general sporting goods store and it's employee-owned.

Natural Grocers, aka Vitamin Cottage, began in Colorado, similar to Whole Foods. Natural Grocers made conscious decisions about what to carry in their stores, how to grow, and what would drive their business. Unlike Whole Foods, Natural Grocers did not sell out. Instead they said "hey, we can do this." Natural Grocers only sells organic produce, hormone, GMO-free meat, nothing in their store has artificial colors, flavors, or preservatives. Before it was cool, they went bag-free. Natural Grocers was built on the foundation that a healthy lifestyle can be affordable for everyone. Natural Grocers is traded on the NYSE under the ticker NGVC. (More about voting with dollars in the stock market in another post.)

I've received some criticism that shopping at Natural Grocers or indulging in an In N Out burger and fries is not shopping local. I want to be perfectly clear that my experiment has nothing to do with income. I don't think any business should be limited in growth. Just know that the hamburger you're eating didn't come from the shelf you picked it up from. It came from an animal that lived somewhere and ate something. Community is a bigger picture than items on a shelf and number of stores.

Last night I walked the downtown Truckee strip. I stopped at Mellow Fellow for dinner. I had a glass of wine at Uncorked (visit Uncorked in Truckee, Squaw, and Northstar). The owners also own Soupa at the base of Squaw Valley where their ingredients come from the Food Hub, the soup is home made. It can take some time to get through the line at Soupa, but it's definitely my go-to, and has been for years, at Squaw. I finished at a little shop carrying all things local, including a much needed wool dryer ball. I also found a handmade silver ring to adorn my left hand.

Being committed to the community is taking time to mindfully shop, understanding that what is on the shelf came from somewhere, and being conscious that every dollar you spend is a vote for something.

Happy shopping!

#makeyourdollarscount

TED Talk - Happiness

Earlier today I posted a TED talk on FB about happiness, challenging anyone to join me for 21 days beginning this Wednesday, January 10th.

Several years ago I created a gratitude book to get through a very dark time in my life. When I was diagnosed with cancer I had a mentor, someone who walked in similar shoes. Sometimes we know our mentor or have some connection to our mentor. Sometimes we don't. And later, we become a mentor for another. I remember my mentors and thank them for their strength. The first time I was a mentor was to a beautiful woman. We chatted on the phone, via email, and social medial. We became friends and even met in person even though we lived a time zone apart. Then one day just before Thanksgiving she stepped in front of a train. I will never know why. The first few pages of my gratitude book was filled with simple things: Sampson, yoga, mountains, memories. I remember staring at the blank pages trying to come up with three words once the obvious things I was thankful for had been written. I wrote that I was grateful for snow in 20 different ways just to come up with three words a day. But as time passed, it got easier. And at some point I could fill a page with words and sentences and paragraphs. Eventually, I got through this time and have turned to my gratitude book several times since. I found this simple tool immensely helpful.

In this TED Talk, Shawn Anchor challenges us to be better humans. To live in a world of happiness. Beginning this Wednesday, I will share my 21-day journey. Please join, whether vicariously through me or on your own.

Here's the specifics:

• Each day write three words of gratitude for the day, either in the morning for the day ahead or in the evening for the things you were grateful for that day.
• Write one journal entry of a positive experience for the day.
• Find 10 to 20 minutes each day to exercise, whether that is a walk, yoga class, or all-out workout
• Meditate for 5 to 10 minutes a day, increasing to 20 to 30 minutes a day. Use an app on your cell phone or combine the meditation with a morning walk (exercise and meditation)
• Complete one random -- or conscious -- act of kindness everyday. Shawn Anchor proposes writing a thank you note via email or social media to someone in your social circle. I believe you can practice a random act of kindness almost anywhere. But, if it's easier, write a thank you to someone you know. 

What you'll need: 

• Journal
• Pen
• A list of people to thank in your social circle
• Install a meditation app on your phone

Spend tomorrow gathering supplies and let's get ready to find happiness in the simplicity and beauty of life. 

To happiness...

A Week into Project No Conglomerates

A week into my year-long project and I have to admit I'm struggling. I really want mozzarella cheese, but the kind I like I have not been able to find at a community grocery store. 

Since getting $9.80 back from Starbucks I've wanted to go to Coffee Bar, a Truckee gem. Apparently, everyone knows this. For the past four days I have been unable to find parking. Today, I parked on the street, determined to see the inside of the place. It was packed. The cinnamon rolls were over-iced. I like the frosting, but preferred the old un-frosted rolls best. Coffee Bar hasn't made them without frosting for more than a year now, despite my constant request. But today, they were particularly frosty so I opted for a blueberry bran muffin. Not wanting to leave my dog in my car parked on the street, I took my treats to go. Ultimately, I found this unrewarding and a waste of the $9.80 I secured from Starbucks.

Tonight, I'm eating noodles soaked in butter. I admit, this is the way I usually eat noodles. I just wish I had mozzarella cheese to go with them! Ugh!

Other notable items: paper towels are a fortune at community grocery stores. I think I will invest in cloth napkins. Wine is more interesting and the store clerks are much more knowledgeable about where the wine comes from, how its made, if it has sulfites. I've also found the prices of wine to be very reasonable.

I was told to buy a certain type of cream that I cannot find at my local mom and pop store, New Moon. I had planned to run an experiment using store bought cream vs. homemade cream. I was told the reason the store didn't carry those was because they had known carcinogens (see Kaori Oils for more). Wow! Safeway never looks out for me like that!

So aside from a moz-cheese melt down things are going.

Tomorrow I'm venturing out to another mom and pop in Kings Beach: Tahoe Community Market. They serve sandwiches. I intend to walk the dog and eat a sandwich. Maybe Theodore and I will share the sandwich :)

Commitment to Community

On December 23rd I posted on FB a "no conglomerates" challenge - mainly for myself, but open to anyone who wants to join me in shopping within the community, not avoiding the community. I realized after posting that challenge that so many things were left unsaid. This blog is long, but does my best to get the year started. 

First step: Cancel Amazon Prime membership. 

Second step: Remove all affiliate marketing to Amazon (and others, but I only have affiliate marketing with Amazon). I think I've done that, but if any of you notice I have not, please let me know :)

Third Step: Establish the definition of "conglomerate". It could be argued that this is the first step, but I needed to free myself from Amazon first. Can there be a distinction between privately held and publicly traded companies. No. There are huge stores that are not publicly traded. Forbes compiles lists of these and to make the list revenues must be greater than $2 billion (with a "b"). Companies that have made the list include: Albertson's, Toys R Us, PetSmart, and, until last year, Dell. To see Forbes 2017 list, click here.

I don't think it's fair to say that businesses cannot make money. That is the goal of any business. So what constitutes a small business? A community business? Suffice to say that Toy R Us would not open a shop in Truckee, California. It is a large corporation. A community business doesn't need to wait until the next board meeting to make decisions. A community business doesn't go into the business with the intention of putting other businesses out of business or cares if they do. Instead it is an asset to the community.

REI and Briar Patch are co-ops. REI is arguably a very large corporation. It is owned by its members. Members receive a dividend check every year. Mountain Hardware in Truckee is employee owned. These businesses give back to the people that shop (use), work, and/or benefit from the business.

In-N-Out Burger, admittedly an annual indulgence of mine, has 304 stores, all owned by the Snyder family, and worth over $1 billion. It is a very large family-owned business. In-N-Out's growth is dependent on the location of their distribution centers. None of the meat is ever frozen or microwaved.

This is an excellent segue way to supply chain. Where are the items in the store made? Look on the back of the packaging of most items sold at Toys R Us to learn they are not made in the United States. What about Patagonia? Most of their clothing is not made in the United States. Is Patagonia a conglomerate? A large corporation? What are their buying practices? Maybe there is a better choice for certain items, like Inner Waves Organics for yoga-style clothing. I certainly don't think purchasing Patagonia clothing is the same as purchasing WalMart clothing. I had a friend who worked fairly high up in the Patagonia company. She shared a lot of their business practices with me. I feel confident in spending money at Patagonia. 

Online small businesses are certainly prevalent in today's internet-centered economy. There are things that I will not be able to find in Truckee. But I have a choice to find a company that is not Amazon. Most online retailers are savvy and have figured out that letting people know about their business practices is important and does make a difference. 

Maybe it's easier to define a non-conglomerate. Employee-owned, family owned, independently owned, and member-owned (co-op) businesses. These are key words. Buying and/or supply chain practices that foster community development, offer safe working conditions, opportunities for growth, and do not employ under-aged workers. Companies that give a damn about carbon footprint and how long it takes to get strawberries from overseas to New York City in the middle of winter.

This is what I mean. This is where I want to shop this year.   

Fourth step: Ground rules.

I told my brother what I was doing and he brought up some interesting points. He asked what cellular company I use? Utilities, etc. Fortunately, where I live, my utilities are all local except for gas, however, I use propane, which is local. I am not advocating that anyone cut themselves off from power, water, and cellular service. While it is a personal goal of mine to live off the grid and I'm taking steps to do so (a different blog all together) this year is about living in the community and shopping at the stores my neighbors own.

Ground Rule #1: OK to use public utilities.
Goal: Turn off the cell phone 1 full day 1 day a week. Most likely that will be Monday's for me.

He then asked if I would buy Kraft Mac & Cheese. I don't actually buy Kraft Mac & Cheese, but for sake of argument, let's stick with that example. The answer is yes - if it is purchased from a community grocer. My community grocer buys wholesale, just like the big guys -- Safeway, Save Mart, and Costco. I'm still supporting my community grocer regardless of the products I buy. Incidentally, I went to Village Market in Incline Village, a family owned grocery store for 35 years. Village Market does not carry Kraft Mac & Cheese. I looked.

Ground Rule #2: OK to purchase any brand as long as it if from community supplier.
Goal: Purchase brand that use sustainable practices -- we still don't really know what's inside a Kraft Mac & Cheese box.

My brother then asked where I was going to buy my gas. It's been a long time since we've seen truly independent gas stations. I do remember them, when I first started driving over 30 years ago. However, most gas stations are independently owned. I met a gas station owner a few months ago. I was catching a plane to Bali and thought I'd walk from the train station to the airport. On my way, it started pouring rain that turned to hail. I took cover under the awning of an AM/PM. A gentleman pulled up in a worn out Ford Mustang from the late 80's. He seemed harmless so I asked him for a ride. Turns out he was a private pilot chartered by a major casino owner to run between Reno and Las Vegas. As a side project he bought an AM/PM in Reno. He no longer works as a private pilot, but his gas station is paid for -- as well as his Ford Mustang. (This man is a an incredible role model for building wealth -- again, a different blog.) The last time I got gas in Reno, I actually drove a bit out of the way to use his AM/PM. 

Ground Rule #3: Get gas from independently owned gas stations. Get to know the owner/operator
Goal: Park the car for at least 1 full day and walk or ride a bike.

About that time, my mom joined the conversation and bet that I'd go to Starbucks before the year is out. I looked at the balance on my Starbucks app: $9.80. I did go to Starbucks this year. I went earlier today. I requested a refund of the balance remaining on the app. Turns out in California if a gift card has a balance under $10 can be redeemed for cash. Apps are considered gift cards.

Ground Rule #4: Try to get refunds from balances left over from the past.
Goal: There is no perfect time to start something like this. This has been an ongoing shift over the past several years. Maybe my mom may be right that I will go to Starbucks before the end of the year. It's not about perfection. I hope I'm never perfect. I hope that I always continue to strive to be perfect.

The next topic was transportation, specifically, flying. Last year I was out of the country almost six months. I flew several major airlines and a few smaller airlines. I hope to fly to Iceland and South America this coming year. I know that my pocket book cannot afford to charter a private plane. I find myself completely stumped. I believe in my heart of hearts that the cultural experiences gained from traveling far exceed anything we can ever read in a book. While traveling, I have charted private planes and independently-owed airlines.

Ground Rule #5: Major airlines, train lines, etc. OK.
Goal: See if an alternative is available and within the budget.

Finally, for those that are still skeptical, the number one way we vote in this country is with our dollars. Don't be fooled by election years. We vote all year long, every day, everywhere we spend money. When we purchase something made overseas on Amazon, we just voted to receive items from overseas, at an easy-to-shop venue like Amazon. Likewise, when we visit Village Market in Incline Village, NV we vote to keep Village Market. Think of it as 1 point for Amazon. One point for Village Market. Then multiple that by all the various items one can purchase on Amazon vs. what one might be able to buy locally. That's a lot of points for Amazon. At the end of the day, who do you want to have all your points?

Follow me through this exploration of local (or loco) on Instagram at samaararobbins. Watch for my hashtags (still learning what that actually even means) #makeeverydollarcount, #outsidethebox, and #liveatthelake. Visit Facebook and this blog (www.killerliving.com). Comments welcome. :)

Out of Nowhere

Earlier this week, I was having lunch with Jeff. He's training for a 100-mile bike ride. We casually chatted about the training, the ride, and the last time he'd been in a long bike ride, the MS-150 in Colorado. The MS-150 was just days after my first chemotherapy treatment over eight years ago. I started crying. Not balling, but tears stung my eyes and the room went blurry under a film of watery eyes that came literally out of nowhere.

It had been eight years and two months exactly since my first chemotherapy treatment.

I remember it well. I was dropped off at the hospital by my neighbor: are you OK? I'm fine. I walked through the hospital doors up to the post-surgical ward where, in one of the rooms, the beds had been replaced with leather recliners and the windows overlooked the hot roof of another wing of the hospital. It was hot and I could see the waves of the heat rising off the roof.

I was alone and I was scared.I had no idea what to expect except what Hollywood sensationalized. The chemo room was also the medications room where all the meds for the entire ward were locked. Nurses came and went and I sat. After what felt like an eternity, I was hooked up to IVs delivered to a port in my chest that I often referred to as the "mainline to my heart".

A chemotherapy port is a fancy IV with a tube inserted into the subclavian vein -- the vein that empties the blood from the body back into the right side of the heart which then travels into the lungs for some oxygen, returning to the left side of the heart where the oxygen -- and poison -- rich blood is pumped through the entire body. The poison (doctor's refer to as "medicine") is literally delivered to your heart-lungs-heart, in that order, first. This amazing me still today in two ways: first, what a way to inject poison (or medicine) into a body; second, what amazing bodies we have to survive a direct shot to our hearts.

Balloon Hat - Chemo #1

Eventually I fell asleep thanks to liquid Benadryl. I woke to Jody putting a hat made of balloons on my head that now, deflated, lives in a box labeled "cancer". I was thankful for Jody. She arrived within the last 30 to 60 minutes of all six of my treatments. And on the sixth treatment she even wore pink as I sang "Gotta have Boobs" (see posts from June though December 2009). We would have an early dinner before she took me home and I would throw up the dinner and further into treatment would throw up everything and nothing for three days.

Gotta Have Boobs - Chemo #6

I worked with a wonderful woman going through breast cancer treatment many years later. She told me that cancer treatment was easy. It was the collateral damage that sucked. This morning, I read an article about intimacy following cancer. Three weeks ago I had yet another surgery related to cancer. My entire body is so different now. I stepped on the scale as I do every morning - no shift. Still the same large number as the day before. The number post-hysterectomy-collateral-damage of cancer.

I'm part of an art exhibit that will be at the held at the ISPA conference in Florida October 16-18. Ironically, a brief conversation I had with Julie Bach the founder of Wellness for Cancer inspired the exhibit. Yesterday I spoke with the artist that will be drawing an abstract of me and several other women. Each abstract drawing will be beside an actual photograph of each of us. The exhibit is modeled after the Dove Experiment,  but instead is our opinion of who we are post cancer. I told the artist I was in a really good place right now. But as we spoke I remembered.

Cancer often feels a lot like death of a loved one. After the memorial (treatment) the people around you go on, but you still grieve. On the surface everything looks great, but scratch below and all hell breaks loose.

Admittedly things are much easier now. I'm slowly accepting the many changes my body has undergone with over 11-ish cancer related surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation. The hardened outward surface is slowly matching the softer inside. Most days I don't even remember having cancer.

Then, out of nowhere....

Photograph taken for art project in 2010.
Photos and texts were included in a book as
inspiration for others going through treatment.
There were about 30 survivors and their stories.
Today, almost a third of those amazing women are gone.

To My Best Friend

The night before Sampson died, he asked me to write his story...

With our feet in the sand, a warm wind, and water lapping at the shoreline I wrote.

Sampson could jump from standing still over five feet high. He often fetched his dinner from the upper cabinets in the kitchen. And nothing was safe on the counter...or in the toaster over. One day I came home to find the toaster oven door open, the plate still on the rack, and the cupcakes all gone. He would chew just a small hole in the potato chip bag and empty the bag. He seldom destroyed the wrapping -- he only wanted the good stuff. When he'd rob the trash, he would hide his "treasures" on the bed. When I came home, he'd run to great me, then run back to the bed and lay across the mess. It was a dead give-away, but I pretended to be surprised to find the contents of my trash on my bedspread. At least he never rolled in dead animals!

Sampson was kind. He once swam with a mother duck and her ducklings in Hyalite Reservoir in Bozeman. He caught a rabbit and let it go, unharmed. He curled with his cat friends and always met new dog friends -- named Bob every time. When we went to get Theodore, Sampson sat by the car and said, "No. I don't want a puppy. I'm an only dog. Let's go now. Mom. Mom. Dad. Let's go." He glared at Theodore who curled up in my lap and slept all the way home. Within days Theodore was his new best friend. When Theo was about 3 months old a very big dog charged him. As though Sampson flew through the air, he was there to protect Theodore. Theo always looked up to his big brother Sam.

I found Sampson through a newspaper ad in Dallas. I called and asked if they had any red male Aussie's left. The man on the other end of the line said he only had one Aussie left and yes, it was red male. My aunt and I drove the always-under-construction-highway from Ft. Worth to south of Dallas. At the ranch I picked up Sampson and asked him if he wanted to go home with me. When I set him down, he turned and ran the opposite direction! By the next day, he snuggled onto the pillow where my head was and slept the night away. He would sleep on my pillow for the next 11 years.

Sampson was not short on marking his territory and that included me. While at tricks class in Bozeman, he walked right over to me, lifted his leg, and peed on my shoe! And again at an impassable creek crossing in Truckee. And as I wrote his story in my journal that last night at the lake, he crawled into my lap, rested his head in my arms and peed on my leg. But that wasn't his fault. By then, his auto-immune disease was affecting all the nerves and muscles in his lower back. It struck me then as it does now that I would give anything for him to have had the ability to lift his leg.

We've traveled all over the country together -- Kansas to see the largest ball [blob] of twine and to Minnesota to see its competitor, an encased ball of twine. We stopped at playgrounds, hiking trails, lakes, and to eat fresh, very delicious, blueberry pie. Sampson always ate the whipped topping and I ate what was left. This was true for everything: pie, sunday's, mochas, anything with whipped topping. Even at home I would make whipped topping for my pies so Sampson had dessert. We both agreed life's too short to omit dessert. I went anywhere a "dogs welcome" sign hung. Sampson's eaten at posh restaurants in Carmel-by-the-Sea to outdoor eateries in New Orleans. Bar-be-que being Sampson's favorite. We visited the oldest family-owned store in the country in Kentucky, ate at the original Kentucky Fried Chicken, and toured the battlefields of the Civil War. Sampson's scaled many of Colorado's 14ers, skied in Montana, Colorado, and California. He's swam in lakes, rivers, streams, and the ocean. He's chased squirrels, deer, and imaginary objects in the Rocky's, Sierra's, and Appalachian's.

Sampson has scarred the shit out of me and himself I'm sure. One day I called home frantic that Sampson was missing in the woods. I asked Jeff to come as quickly as possible to help me find him. Jeff opened the front door and there was Sam. "Dad. I think I messed up. I lost mom." He always found his way home. To me.

During the darkest moments of chemotherapy, Sampson would curl on the floor with me in the bathroom. He would lay on my feet to keep them warm. He had to be touching me. I didn't know then and I don't know now who it was more comforting for - me or him? He would lick my tears and put his paw on my lap. He let me hold his paw. Often we would fall asleep like paw in hand and he would wait for me to get up first.

Sampson had my back and I had his. We were partners, walking together. He was always ready for an adventure, whether it was to the grocery store or across the country.

Sampson died from an auto-immune disease that overtook his lower spine, rendering him partially paralyzed and unable to eliminate. He had a sadness in his eyes. He would get to the bottom of the stairs and look to me. Together we learned an assist to front leg walking. Two days before he died, I spent the day with Sampson. We hiked as much as he would, paddled, and snuggled on the paddle board. The next day he spent with dad and then we camped that night. On his last morning, he was spunky, alive, and alert. We went to a lake where he found and played fetch with a tennis ball. Went for a swim, and ate sardines. After we went to the vet.

I know now that that morning was his gift to us. And later that morning was our gift to him as we held him close and told him we loved him and we all said goodbye.

Sampson will forever by in my heart and part of my soul. I love you "sammy davis jr. jr."

This is Real

A chime sounded on the platform before a prerecorded man's voice began: Step behind the yellow line. The approaching train does not stop at this station.

The train approached fast. I thought about jumping onto the tracks. I thought about Linda. The train sped through the station and I realized there would be no second chance. Once on the tracks there would be no where to go. If in that split second between jumping and being hit there would be no escape if I changed my mind. I wondered whether Linda had changed her mind. I wondered whether she was here right now.

I have wanted to be dead so many times in my life. But I have never been able to pull the trigger. My appetite for what is on the other side of the door is insatiable. In my darkest of darkest hours, balled in a heap with tears flooding down my face I have always had one thing. Hope.

Today I unraveled my compression stocking slowly up my arm, beginning at the wrist, stretching and smoothing out any wrinkles. Brightly colored in pinks and blues. The person sitting across from me said it was pretty. To me just another of the many constant reminders that I had cancer.

In conversation she told me this isn't real. We only experience things as real because we have five senses.

But this is real. I'm real. My life is real.

I appreciate different points of view. I appreciate that this is her point of view. But there is no way I can go through life with the belief that this is just a game of senses.

Someone else looks over at my compression stocking engulfing my right arm. I catch her glance. She smiles and nods in the direction of my sleeve chasing her nod with her eyes. I smile back then cover my sleeve with my jacket. I know that she is just one of many today. I know that if I leave my sleeve on - like I should do - I will be pulled aside and searched when I reach the U.S.

I am a passionate person which I've often considered more of a liability than a strength. I don't just cry. I get into it. Tears stream down my face. Big. Fat. Tears. I curly into a ball and rock back and forth on the floor until I cry myself to sleep or cry every tear I have. And when I'm happy, I'm all in! I exude that joy from deep inside every cell of my body. I sometimes think that people half way around the world can feel my pain and my joy.

When I watched that train blow through the station just a week ago my thoughts shifted to Linda and then to everyone else I've known. Some who've died by their own choice. Some who have not. Some whose lives were stolen by disease. Their words come back to me.

I've made up stories of why Linda stepped in front of that train just before Thanksgiving three years ago. I admired her strength, but hated her choice.

If life wasn't real and I truly believed it wasn't real I would jump. I would get rid of the hurt and the hate. But life is real. And with that hurt and the hate, I would lose the joy and the happiness. I would miss the fun. I would miss my dogs licking my face clean after a peanut butter sandwich. And spring. The fresh smell of the forest after an August rain. I would miss the sea and the rivers polishing the rocks below. I believe life is real. And with that life - my life - I have hope.

Life Happened

This past year has been unbelievably challenging for me. I feel amazingly displaced swirling in a spiraling vortex to an end I have no control over. It is as though everything that has happened in my life up until this very moment finally weighed me down like an anvil on my shoulders. Life happened to me.

Every word that has ever been spoken. The things that have happened in my life. The events of the past. All of the big fights. The enormousness of it all. It is suffocating.

Each day it has been harder and harder to get up. I struggle to get through the day once I get up. I can't wait to go to sleep, but can't sleep once I get there. My brain will not shut down or power off.

Today I stood in front of a doctor who told me I was fat. Thank you. I have a mirror at home, put my clothes on every day and take a shower naked. I know what I look like. Chalk it up to cancer -- that big fat fucking "c" word that stole my life, buried my soul and then served it all back to me in a broken body. Fat body.

In my life I've heard so many times -- rise above this. What is interesting about the people that say that is those are the people who have never had anything go wrong in their lives. Those are the people from Norman Rockwell paintings with perfect teeth. Well my teeth are not perfect. I've been through the wringer. I've lived at least ten lives in the past 46 years and the start of this year ain't anything to write home about.

It's not a money thing. I have money in the bank. A fair amount of it actually. I'm debt free, yet surrounded by emptiness and the back end of a Toyota 4Runner. I've been here before, but this time is definitely different. The emptiness is dark without color. And hollow.

A Different America

In the first presidential election I was old enough to vote in the candidates were Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush, and billionaire Ross Perot. I was 21. Clinton won. My friends had a bumper sticker that read: Lick Bush in 92. (Laugh--even if you were a Bush supporter, it's a funny bumper sticker!)

Perhaps it was that election that set up the Clintons to run against billionaires. Ross Perot is actually very similar to Donald Trump. He never held a public office, but ran several successful corporations. You could never understand what Perot was saying. And both he and Trump are a bit funny looking. Looking back over this year's "race to the white house" I can't help but think Trump learned something from Perot. He had to get the Republican nominee to have a chance in hell. And the star of that "Primary" circus was Trump. On the democratic side Hillary was groomed by the National Democratic Party to be the next president since being defeated by Obama eight years ago. Poor Bernie never had a chance.

As the election came to a close Trump was declared the victor. He beat Hillary by electoral votes. And Hillary? She joins Andrew Jackson (Democrat, 1824), Samuel Tilden (Democrat, 1976), Grover Cleveland (Democrat, 1888), and Al Gore (Democrat, 2000) as a candidate to win the popular vote, yet not the electoral vote.

Whether you voted for Trump or Clinton, the ballots have closed and Trump has won. I can offer one condolence for those supporting Clinton -- marijuana, whether recreational or medical, passed in all states where it was a ballot measure except Arizona. This makes the west's "blue" states (pun intended) a recreational marijuana mecca. And don't worry Arizona, California rejected this measure the first time around also!

What happens next? For some, fasten your seat belts, for others run for the border--to escape or go home, your choice before the wall goes up. Republicans rule the House, the Senate and the Oval Office.

Trump is the first businessman to take the seat. He is not a politician. Let's see what he can do. And in four years, if America is not "great again" we can say "You're Fired!"

Seven Year Cancer-versary

It's been seven years today since I heard those magical words "you've got cancer." Last week someone asked me what the significance of 7 years was. I told her it's like turning 19. It's older than 18, but still three years away from 21.

Graduating from high school is like the first cancer-versary, whew, I made it. Turning 18 is similar to the 5 yr cancer-versary. You're still getting "window" envelops with medical bills, but you're strong enough to "vote" for the medical care you wish to receive in the future. Then you wait five more years to reach the holy grail of cancer-versaries -- 10 years. Ten years is definitely the equivalent of 21. You can drink! Before health care reform after 10 years you were stamped "CURED" by the insurance companies and cancer was no longer considered a pre-existing condition.

Yesterday I woke up to Truckee blanketed in 5 inches of snow. I donned my snow boots and walked the dogs to the river. It reminded me of years ago when it used to snow every April in Truckee. It reminded me of backcountry skiing "right into the lake" before feasting on a shared sandwich and cookie in front of the fire at Tahoe House with a friend that is no longer alive. It reminded me to enjoy this very moment watching the water flow away from the mountains towards Pyramid Lake where once I took the Squaw Valley company car -- a sporty Subaru -- to see how fast it would go. I drove 120 mph down a two-lane road and to this day that remains the fastest I've ever driven.

A lot of life has happened between April 24, 2009 and today. In my memoir, Saving Second Base, I wrote:

I stood there staring at my own body but did not see me. I hated cancer. I hated the way I looked. I hated the way I felt. Mostly I hated that my life was not my own.

The truth is I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight cancer. Cancer was my way out of this world. If I died from cancer that wouldn’t be my fault. 

But yesterday I thought of something else I used to have written on pieces of paper all around me. It was not from cancer, but before cancer. I lived by the words and those words have taken me all over the world. I read the saying somewhere that I do not remember and I cannot remember the words exactly, but it went something like this: 

I don't think about what I would have missed if I had never left, I think about what I never would have known if I had stayed. 

In revising these words yesterday, I wrote: 

I don't think about what I would have missed if I did not fight cancer, I think of all the experiences I've had because I did. 

Here is a photographic journey of the past seven years. 

Celebration after finishing treatment, Dec 2009

Alaska Cruise for Bubbie's 80th b-day June 2010

Empire Mine with my nephew, Jack, Spring 2011

Florida Breast Cancer Marathon, Valentin'e Day, 2011

Teaching my niece, Haley, to ride a bike Spring 2012

2nd Denali attempt, 17,000-ft, 2012

Surfing, Costa Rica with Mom, January 2013

Ropes Course, Costa Rica January 2013

Oregon, Spring 2014

Theo's 2nd 14er, CO 2014

Making cookies for Santa, December 2015

Teaching Jack & Haley to Ski, 2016

 

Great Ski Race (checked off the to-do list), March 2016

Tulips in Nevada City with Julie April 2016