How Did We Invent God?

Buckle your seat belts. This will be a long journey. Most of you will only agree with some of it, some of you with none of it. But we have to start somewhere, so let's try for a definition.

What is a god? Note this isn't "what is THE God?" or "what is Your God/Goddess/Higher Power/(Pick your term)? Humans have had something they referred to as a God for, near as we can tell, about as long as we've had history. I'm going back before even that, because somehow we came up with the concept.  Concepts need definitions. It must be something with power, meaning more than you have, either individually or collectively, or we'd all be gods. I'm going to argue straight out that none of us actually are a god, no matter our opinion of ourselves.

I'm also going to argue that the concept took billions of years to emerge. From what we believe we know about this universe, it's been around since what we call the Big Bang, about 14 billion years. And don't ask those folks what came before or how or why. Let's arbitrarily call the Big Bang the start. Atoms grew from protons, electrons and neutrons, and changed into other kinds of atoms, which combined with yet others to make molecules, and so forth. "Things" formed, collected more and more "stuff", grew and grew, formed into planets and stars, organized into solar systems, further organized into galaxies, though as far as anybody can currently prove, stayed within one single universe. We may know better when somebody can explore a black hole and tell us all about it. If we're still around then. I'm not holding my breath about that. So I'm working with what we've got.

For a very very long time nothing existed which could claim to be life. And then it did, in some perfect confluence of chemistry, energy, and time. Life evolved, became more complex. Eventually some version of a mind emerged, and its creation finally prepared the way to invent a version of what it called God. Feel free if you must to say that all this time the real God was the creative force behind everything. Until minds came along, whatever was happening wasn't recognized, simply experienced, more or less. Somewhere along this timeline 'self" and "other" emerged, along with "food-approach" and "predator-flee", eventually mate/not mate and other concepts. At some point awareness turned further outward from the self, possibly upwards to the sky and the visible universe, and more complicated and confusing concepts were born. Things existed which could not be reached nor controlled by their observers in any way, but they seemed to have power, enough to bring light and dark, storms, cold, warmth. In many cases, they meant life and death. In other words, God. God equaled what was good and bad, what had power. God was to be identified, coveted, appeased. All this was another very long and varied process.

Some humans conferred godhood on other humans, often called kings or queens, or given similar status, with others designated as priests recognized as capable of interpreting commands, including worship parameters and offerings. With god-hood represented by power, kings won their titles through battles, or inherited them, and showed proof of their positions by exerising their powers over others, and by their possessions of sparkly shiny things others didn't have. Think gold, gems, elaborate weapons when metalworking was invented. On parallel tracks, quenss had powers over health and births, with knowledge of plants. Many societies didn't have gender roles in their deities so both men and women were healers, warriors and designated as gods or goddesses for their powers.

Once it was realized mere humans didn't actually have the powers demanded of gods, aside from the power to kill and destroy, an elevated level of deities was invented, given all the powers demanded by humans in order to grant ideal lives to their subjects, providing, of course, that their subjects earned them. Former gods and godesses were now mere royalty. In trying to figure out how to earn their new deities' bounty, humans gave their gods all the characteristics of themselves, all our good and evil characteristics. We invented them in our own images, but with the powers we wanted them to grant us,like controlling the weather, the harvests, life and death. When those were not granted we invented more and more complex reasons why not, and gave priests more say in how we had to behave in order to demand what we wanted. True earthly power transferred to those who could be thought to control their gods.

No human has the power we want to control in our gods. Because controlling supreme power is what we want in our designated gods, and we need the means to control  gods in order to have that power, we try everything to gain that control. Offerings of wealth, lives, food, behvioral changes, all have been given. None work except coincidentally. We fear to believe our actions fail, so it must be the gods at fault. New gods come along, are tested, fail or pass with no reason. Religions and philosophies rise and fall, get replaced, those fall.  Eventually, on some terrible day, somebody dares to cry out that there actually are no gods. Somehow if we can't control them they do not exist. We have never given up on the idea that we ourselves must be gods, have that power.

On that precipice is where our species stands today. We have not the power to answer the question, though not because we haven't always been trying. Some are positive their opinion is THE ONLY RIGHT ONE, no matter what it is on the subject. We will never know, not while we live, and possibly not afterwards. We will, however, continue to fight over the question, battle for the impossible power, try to prove we are  correct. What we will prove is we are merely human.

The 38 Hour Day

I think I'm mostly recovered now, and the better news trickling in is helping, but we had none of that when this started.

It was already nearly bedtime. In fact, I was tired enough to start thinking about what I still needed/wanted to do, getting ready to take the dog out for her last chance to reject the lawn as a suitable spot that night for a pee before bed. Yes, that's our desert dog, temporarily relocated in MN.

My phone rang. It was Steve's oldest son's wife, Katy, frantic with worry, letting us know he'd been taken to the hospital, reaching me first instead of Steve from the kind of panic that gums up rational thinking and sorting phone numbers in that kind of situation. I handed Steve the phone. They'd been fixing supper, when he'd started one of two seizures. She'd called the ambulance, and for the next blur of time they'd arrived at the hospital, he'd been intubated and plugged into all the monitors they use on patients where nobody knows yet what happened or what will next. In the process he'd been medicated both to induce coma and paralyze him. If he were to wake he'd fight intubation. Under the circumstances it would still be needed.

We immediately promised to come up, what turned into a 4 hour drive after a bit of online research informed me how to find the hospital and which highways led there. I figured once there we'd just hit the ER, always well lit, and get directions from there.  Getting ready led to some incomplete plans, including getting dressed, grabbing next doses of pills we'd need, planning to load on caffeine for the drive, turning doggie responsibility to my son we were staying with, thinking we'd be back in the morning shortly after he headed off to work. 

We pretty much underestimated all of it. We also didn't account for the rain working its way through, the reluctance of nighttime country drivers to turn their lights from high beams to low, or road closures with long detours along the way. Steve did promise to stay awake for "Deer Watch", since neither of us underestimated their ability to suddenly appear in the path of a moving vehicle at the worst times and in the worst places with the most inconvenient results. He did his job admirably, at least on the trip up, seeing one deer which I missed, but the stress of our task made him forget he'd seen it by the next morning. No matter: we didn't connect.

The rain was light, so the major issue with it was its contribution to both old and fresh bugs smearing across the windshield for the first few dozen miles, until washer fluid combined with it to both ease the bugs clear while helping the Arizona-aged rubber finally soak up enough liquid to adequately do its job again. Or was it their first time? I recall both thinking about buying new ones before we left AZ and deciding I had something more important to do instead at that moment. It all combined on this trip into having to alternate between keeping the AC on the inside of the windshield to defrost and keeping enough heat also on it so neither of us got chilled, both having dressed for a very warm sticky evening. I had planned for a chilly hospital - they ALL are - and brought a zipper hoodie, but Steve was under more stress and spaced that part. I loaned him mine as needed.

Katy, when called to tell her we were finally there, came out and guided us to his room. The next couple hours were filled with (lack of) results from tests run, tests still planned, possibilities, talking to Lance as if he could hear to remind him how much he was loved, and trying to keep Katy and Steve occupied with other things besides worrying. Steve shared many of his best stories, whether Katy had heard them or not. She'd share something when prodded, like explaining to me how the two of them had met. I spent most of my time reminding Steve of more stories to share with Katy. There were of course regular interruptions from staff checking monitors, giving updates. and finally announcing they were going to be sending him to a hospital better equipped to deal with whatever was going on than their fairly rural one. Problem was they were still searching for a bed for him. Steve sent Katy off with some small bills for the vending machines since she hadn't eaten for ages and the cafeteria was closed until after 7 the next morning.

Once a hospital bed was finally located, we were informed he was being sent to St. Mary's in Duluth. We were now waiting for a helicopter to arrive for his transport. This meant we were left wondering why that instead of a regular ambulance: was he that critical? Katy was also devastated to hear there would be no room (fuel capacity) in the helo for her to come along. They were just reestablishing themselves in a new state, hadn't secured jobs yet, and there were no funds for gas for that long a trip. While we were mulling that over, staff popped in again and announced that the helo would not be flying after all due to impending weather conditions. (Oh yeah, that rain we drove through. Much worse now? We hadn't heard, of course.)

So now there was hope she could ride in the ambo with him, but that was quickly squashed. The crew would have to decided if, in addition to the people caring for him and all the equipment he was connected to supporting him, there would be any additional room for her as well. They were thoughtful enough not to mention the possibility of how his possibly worsening on the way would complicate their jobs, particularly with an emotional wife witnessing it.

Seeing Katy again devastated, Steve and I cocked eyebrows at each other, not needing communication to offer her the needed ride to Duluth. Sure, I hadn't slept yet, but there was caffeine left in the car. I'd gone back out and tried to nap, but that hadn't happened. We'd make do, whatever needed for safety at the time.

Over another hour passed while waiting for the ambulance (busy evening) to show up. We got a tentative diagnosis: Meningitis. Which kind? Source? Prognosis? Not only had they no answers, they couldn't even prove, yet, that was the correct diagnosis. I had gone out earlier to go over the car's maps to find a better way home than we'd come up, since it had a huge detour, and found one. Now I needed a decent map to get to St. Mary's. Duluth I could manage, but I hadn't been to St. Mary's for perhaps 20 years for work, from a different direction (freeway), and with better maps. The staff came up with one of those 2-page Google printouts that can take a full page to say turn left at x,  go y blocks, and turn right on Z for 50 miles. I sat with that for a while to make it make sense, aka "speaking in Heather".  With my car map it became "go back to 169, north a mile to 2, east to 149 in (town forgotten already) and pick up 53 continuing east which dumps you practically at St. Mary's doorstep.  OK, 169 - 2- 149 - 53 - hospital street address. Got it.

Now it was a wait for the ambulance to leave. Katy wanted to stay with Lance until he was loaded inside and on its way. We followed for a while behind flashing lights but were in no way willing to try to keep up with a vehicle which had mandated right-of-way wherever. Katy slept in the back seat, Steve, finally, in the passenger front. By then, shortly after 4 AM, we had noticed the sky in the north was already lightening up, clouds parting. It would be daylight when we reached Duluth to hunt for the hospital. Easy peasy!

Ya think? Nobody mentioned that as soon as we were in Duluth, 53 was blocked. Construction. Construction everywhere, it turned out. I-35. Nearly every street we turned onto. Even the ones we couldn't (and couldn't return on) were both one-way and blocked. Gotta go where you don't want to and still can't get where you need to. Katy was still sleeping until we parked at their ER, and Steve hadn't brought his glasses to read the print on the two sheets of fairly useless directions. By then all that was needed  was the address since Duluth is laid out fairly logically, but by then my own stress and tiredness levels were combining to make me forget, within 10 second of reading the address and checking the next street sign, what both of them had said. Luckily low traffic levels that early meant I could pull over nearly every block to reconfigure the next desired-but-impossible move.

I finally parked outside St. Mary's ER, woke Katy, and we wished her well. While finally escaping Duluth we heard a strange cell phone ring in the back seat. Katy had left her phone! Another glance showed she'd left Lance's bag of clothes as well. Turn back? HELL NO! We'd already contacted Steve's daughter who planned on bringing Lance's and her Mom up to Duluth later that day. It was early so Steve texted her instead of calling that we would bring the things by on our way south - not a huge detour - and drop them off to get taken up on their trip. She was already awake, texted back, so they wound up with an actual phone conversation. They weren't heading north until 10, so we had time.

On the way down, we stopped for gas and fast food breakfast. By the time we rolled into our phone/clothing drop off, I was running on fumes and driving was beginning to get dangerous. I found shade, asked Steve to give me a half hour, and was instantly asleep. Steve gave me 45 minutes, and I was fine to head the rest of the way home.

I had been figuring that our abandonment-issues dog would be frantically crying to see us when we rolled into the driveway. To our surprise, my son not only had taken her out in the morning before leaving for work, he'd delayed going to work until just after we came. Luckily he has a boss who doesn't mind his schedule as long as he puts in his whole 40 hours every week. He'll be heading in to make up the hours on Saturday. She was happy to see us, just long enough to get petting and then go crawl inside a blanket for her next nap. Go figure! We opted to do the same. It was a very long day and a half.

Update: Lance is awake, unvented, and with movement, speech and cognition returning. We have no idea what is next, but our worst fears have receded.

A Really Good Day

It started like most, lately, up too early, so I came into the living room to fall back asleep in front of the TV. (Amazing how effective that is!) But after Steve got up for the day, he let me continue sleeping until he just couldn't help himself and ran a long series of clips of Bartlett speeches from "West Wing", presumably off you Tube, whereupon I had to wake enough to notice they were not sequential, since once Bartlett had been shot, Josh didn't have his own follow up shooting. It just didn't make sense, so the brain reluctantly began to surface.

At that point I finally got my stuff together and went out into the lawn and started getting rid of baby trees by clipping the tops and poisoning the stumps, regardless of how little they were. After all, the lawn mower can also cut off the tops, but the result is a many-trunked bush instead of a dead tree decomposing  in the grass. It took about an hour before it got too hot, but I got quite a lot visibly accomplished. Now that that particular dam has been broken, so to speak, I'll be heading out to do some more real work on lots  more mornings.

More was accomplished in checking out other alternatives to our first choice mobile home park. It may remain our top choice, but we might as well look around. There's one along South Lindstrom Lake which has the advangate of accessibility and a 55+ age minimum. Another on the other side of the same town is a cooperative, where one buys in on the land and becomes part owner/operator of the park. The advantage is no rich jerk can come in, take over, change all the rules and make lot rent sky high. Disadvantage in this case is it's full of speed bumps which first would hurt Steve's back when the car rolls even slowly over them, and second would hang up the bottom of his scooter trying to get over them, say to get to the storm shelter. We've made one appointment request online, and have a phone number for the other to call later because their website is just a little fubar.

Eventually, on finding out that we were not in fact going out to talk to management at either park, Steve declined my offer to drive him to get his license and some bait and take him to his favorite fishing hole. Instead he suggested I head over to Crex. One shower and clothing change later, both the dog and I were in the car heading out. 

It was well past time.

My first stop was their office to vote for my favorites in their (renewed) annual photo contest. I must have missed the email where they didn't get the photos sent to them on time so voting hadn't begun yet. In that case, I inquired what new and wonderful things were to be seen these days and where should I look for them? They're very good at giving out that info. It's how I got directions to the latest wolf den next to the road one year, or exactly which field outside town three stray young whooping cranes had been seen in just an hour before (and still were at) after going astray before fall migration south, joining the growing numbers of sandhill cranes for a couple weeks as they also gathered near or at Crex, staging for their own migration. I have shots to prove it. Unfortunately it wasn't a very good camera, but the color differences stand out dramatically. 

Today's revelation was where to find "maybe 10 to 14 great blue herons" along a certain road. I haven't seen any herons for a few years now, and my best viewing of them around Crex has at best been a pair. Usually half a mile away of course, but one tries to capture a shot anyway. Some cropping, enhancement of details.... It's not too big a disappointment usually. I headed over where directed, stopping to catch many of the currently flowering plants along the roadside. The lake was very low, as most of them were because of the lack of rain this year, so the usual supply of water lilies was pretty ratty and with few blooms. 

 

I drove around the first large lake without seeing much of anything else. Usually there are dozens of trumpeter swans with cygnets, grey compared to their parents' white, and ducks, loons, Canada geese, even osprey as one crawls slowly around the lake, stopping for more shots about every hundred yards or so. Not today. I tried the next two roads to get to the one I was looking for. No Sandhills, no turtles, no harrier hawks, and very few red-winged blackbirds. There were a few Monarch butterflies, and while no mosquitoes, there were a bazillion starving biting flies forcing entry into the car every time the window was rolled down for a shot without stepping out. That was not just to avoid scaring the desired subject away in the process, but to keep the camera dry during any of the many spot showers of the afternoon, never enough to tamp down the road dust of course.

On my next connecting road to my destination I was startled by a flock of turkey vultures chasing a bald eagle out of their territory. Not enough time or an angle for a shot - again - of course, but I'd seen them. Their foe vanquished, they returned to their "home" and settled back in. I stopped to get a view of what they had been protecting. A nest with young? Some carrion? All I got was a view of a dried up black dirt bowl where once water had stood, with about ten turkey vultures, looking very fat and satisfied with themselves for their valor, clustered in the bottom. It was an other photo op, of course. I've only ever seen them soaring up high, riding thermals, so this was worth the trip already.

 

Another turn and there was water, enough for a pair of loons to splash and cavort like kids. No babies to care for, why not enjoy life?

A couple more turns and I was on the road I needed, looking for the supposed lake where the herons were clustered. One suddenly flew overhead, followed by another half dozen who'd seen me first and decided to skedaddle. While there was no remaining lake there was a small channel of water flowing through the area, and the airborne herons landed at the far end of my ability to see where that channel went. I stopped for some shots anyway, then got more of one, then a pair, who with my stillness ventured to land back in their original location closer to the road. Eventually I continued on, found another bunch of about ten, already over the estimate of the woman at the information desk, and got more shots, including several of this bunch flying off, just because I waited for it this time. A third smaller batch showed up later as well.

 

More wanderings, a few turns on roads with nothing interesting, and I started winding my way back out. I was disappointed to not have seen a single sandhill crane this visit, almost ready to wallow in self pity, when a pair of them appeared just off the road. I backed the car for a better view, got it just in focus, and off they flew. Of course they did. But I had seen them after all, including flying directly over the car. A few more turns to a different lake and this time it had plenty of water and most by far of the trumpeter swan population in the refuge. But still, all were white, no grey cygnets.  Bad year for reproduction here. At least the system of dikes installed throughout do a pretty good job of making sure some places keep a good supply of water, as well as letting others dry out periodically. 

 

Continuing onward, one corner tree had a couple suspiciously familiar shapes in its dead top, so I crawled carefully closer, window already down, radio silent. It was a pair of bald eagles, and I got them from three different directions, the last one with the angle of the sun hitting their heads from the front instead of silhouettes. An oncoming car, seeing me, had the courtesy to mimic my car's actions and  got their own shots as well. The eagles barely turned an occasional head the whole time. While mature with their white heads, and presumably a pair, there was barely anything which could be called a nest in the top crotch of that tree, just a few extra sticks. They'll learn to build one, hopefully next year with better water to hold fish enough to feed the next generation and the next. Otherwise I have to wonder how far they'll have to fly for a real food supply. The St. Croix River is several miles away, straight west.

 

After the eagles there were two pairs of sandhills along the road, each pair about a hundred yards away from the next pair, heads sticking up through the tall grass by about 6 inches. With the seond pair I decided to stop and wait to see if another head popped up or it was just a single crane. It popped up. Smaller birds in abundance included goldfinches and red winged blackbirds today, plus one slightly larger bird with a darker head and the rest of the body a dark rust color, as far as I could see in the few seconds it stayed put. But with impeccable timing it flew off before I could get a shot, The redwings were doing a great job of stretching wings so more color showed until the camera came up to the window, then zip!

Heading home I reflected that I hadn't seen any babies of anything on this day. No turtles on a road or sunning on a log which would have been too high out of the water to climb on anyway. I also had missed turkeys until about 3 miles south of town, and any deer until the other end of the same field the turkeys were in. All in all, however, a great day at Crex. Now cleaning up the photos will be what makes or doesn't make a great tomorrow. Plus a little more yard work.

Changing A Lifestyle

 It was a REALLY BIG DEAL, back when it finally happened. For too many it never does. I knew when it did for me that it was the single thing which most contributed to my being seen as an adult in my parent's eyes: I owned a house! Not a mobile home, not rented an apartment, but an actual, basement and garage and everything, house. All by myself, not because I had a husband with the right kind of income, but because I did. Just me.

Of course it wasn't just me. Nothing ever is, no matter how much we revere the myth of the rugged individualist. I had help. Some from my parents, some from my ex's mother, some from a government program that paid interest on a mortgage until I got to the point where I could buy the house out of that program. But I worked for it, and I finally did it, got it built in the summer of 1991.

I've owned one ever since. I still do, though I suppose I should now describe it as "we" own a house because Arizona, like Minnesota, is a community property state, and Steve and I have made it legal. Period. It's a pretty big deal for him as well. We have a recession to thank for the second house, because we bought the current one at the very bottom of the recession from some not very impressive savings after paying off the first mortgage, and there was just enough to do it then, just as the market started turning. There even was some left over for other repairs and expenses along the way. Since I sold the MN house to my youngest son, I'm also the recipient of a modest monthly bonus to the income for some years yet.

The AZ house has now appreciated greatly. But now is also what I fear to be the top of the market for Arizona property, especially with global warming kicking the hell into Phoenix and those who stay there. It is time to leave before we lose the advantage of the nest egg, while new snowbirds still find it perfect for half the year. And with the difference in the two areas' markets, the only way to continue to live independently while moving back north is by moving back into another mobile home. No basement - in fact as few stairs as possible, with plans for a ramp in process. No garage, which means winter will be more restricting than we've either of us experienced, due to aging, especially for the last ten winters where no snow falls, no ice forms on roads, nobody needs boots, mittens, knit hats and heavy puffy jackets. Don't forget shovels! Somebody else will have to shovel the real snow!

Shopping for the perfect unit will be a challenge. At our ages, accessibility will be the key. Already we're not just looking at ramps but door widths, toilet heights, showers instead of tubs, lots of strategic grab bars, and smooth but not slippery flooring EVERYWHERE! All the ones we've looked at have carpeting in at least the living rooms. We want the modern, seamless version of linoleum. Not strips like fake wood and fake tiles, with edges to catch and curl and split, but the seamless kind.  We want a third bedroom, not for any guests but for storage. We'll need a huge pantry for food so we don't have to head out shopping every few days despite weather conditions, plus a second freezer for the same reason. We'll need to stock up on things like toiletries and cleaning supplies and light bulbs and batteries, again for the same reason, and they'll have to share the limited space. We'll also need the best, the re-readable choicest selections of our books library, carefully culled but still taking up shelf space. Of course we'll have our own laundry, more sensibly arranged than before. Count on it, and with its own chair as well.

Furniture will be different in many cases. Steve will still have his lift chair and I my recliner, but our beds will be smaller, with more space around them for their smaller rooms. Kitchen chairs will be on wheels but not too slick - and we've learned to back them up to the cupboards before sitting/standing so there are no falls, if possible. Lower cabinets will have inserts on the shelves on rollers so they can pull forward to reach what's in back. Right now we can't access half our kitchen without getting down on our knees, and that just doesn't happen.

I think I've convinced Steve that our appliances will be electric, not gas, with the possible exception of the furnace. In case of winter power outages, I still want heat, and even solar won't work if the grid is totally down. Most systems feed into the grid rather than your onsite battery storage. We'll have to see about that.

I'll want raised garden beds. I miss flowers, but even more, I need something I can continue to reach without a lot of daily effort which will still have beauty year after year, where weeds can be excised completely and I can walk between them instead of trying to balance on them while bending way over without trampling anything. I want birds back in the yard at small feeders on a deck rail where I can watch them through the windows or while sitting outside on a deck screened to keep the mosquitoes away, and places to hang wind chimes. I want something I can afford to pay somebody else to mow, and while trees are great they also need to leave spaces for sun for solar panels, and a place to aim a satellite dish for TV. So if we're to have all that, and still afford to live and enjoy it, we'll have to downgrade to what too many people don't dignify with the term "house." Because there will still be monthly bills for lot rental and utilities and insurance and medical and........

Decisions. And Consequences.

It's been a while since posting. Much of it has been just taking my own sweet time to adjust to both the gains and losses from traveling halfway across the continent. I'm been tired, grumpy, away from where my usual habits take over. I begin to suspect I'm getting old... or something. This former home no longer is home, just a place to try to settle into, which is pretty weird after 32 years in this house one way or another. Would it surprise you to know I haven't gotten out yet doing morning gardening? It surprises me.

I also haven't visited Crex yet, scheduled visits with family, dropped in on City Hall for a catch-up chat, or taken more than a very few pictures since the trip ended. I tried to blame Canadian smoke for the first couple weeks, but that's no longer around. It hasn't been hot and muggy except for a couple days.

I can pinpoint part of it on the bed. I hate the bed here. It's one Steve moved in, and it's both too high and too hard for me, and my shoulders in particular notice it. Once in it, I feel like I'm stuck because I don't have the leverage to roll over, get myself into a sleep position, and even when I do the worst of my shoulders wakes me. I start sleep later and finish it sooner. A nap in the recliner doesn't make up for that.

Then there's a change in meds. The cardiac ablation has decided not to be perfect after all these years. My pacemaker is showing PVCs and SVTs, and I haven't even gotten around to looking them up. But I can feel them happening. Just before we left town - less than 24 hours in fact, I wangled an emergency appointment with my cardiologist in AZ, got a medication change, and made an appointment with my former clinic in MN for shortly after arrival north. They were even more informative about what was happening, made an additional change in meds, and we're hopeful that will settle things down for a while. Speaking of meds, there's the usual hassle with shifting refills to a local pharmacy, which treats every request as if I were  seeking opioids or something. AZ insists it's simple. Here, not so much. And I get to shift the next refill later today, as well as check on the new one from my northern cardiologist. 

In addition to the fuss, meds on the move are much less simple than at home. There I have my own bathroom with my own medicine cabinet and its own shelves where the location of each bottle, shelf A or shelf B, tells me when its pills get taken. I get up, hit the bathroom, and take my thyroid pill before I leave, starting the day. Here, I have little baggies of pills, one each for each morning, another for each evening. Morning ones go in a clear ziploc bag, evening ones go in a blue one, which I have no idea how I came by so I have to be extra careful not to mess it up because blue = night is almost simple.

TV is different. It's not that we can't get the same shows, it's that they just aren't available. Of course the whole country is dealing with that because of the writers strike, but there's also the shift in a different remote from a different satellite company so the finger muscle memory for which button to push doesn't work and even if it did, the same functions are labeled with different words. 

Are you getting the drift now that I'm just out of sorts and little nothings are getting annoying beyond their importance? Nice as it is to see Paul, Steve an I need our own space. We need to live in it, not just visit somebody else's. The messes should be our messes, and we should know how to fix them. It was already getting bad enough in Arizona with Rich taking over a large chunk of the house and yard where we at least had the freedom to set limits, however poorly they got enforced. It is time for us to have our own space and only ours. It's also time to settle into a single one. And that means it has to be up here in Minnesota.

When we return south in the fall, it will be to start emptying and simplifying what's in the house there. For example, I will have to go through my SW pottery collection and pick out the must-haves to move, then try to locate somebody to handle a proper auction of the rest which will take in their value. Both of us will go through the library and select our favorite authors, then empty the other shelves. We will be holding multiple garage and estate sales by spring. That process will have to be ruthless and encompass the whole house, not just because of the hassle of moving, but because we will be selling the house - hopefully before its value declines due to climate change concerns, and it will not, even at best, bring value to replace itself up here. So it will be a mobile home park for us, buying a home straight out and using the balance for lot rent.

We've picked out the park we wish to move into. It is well run, close to shopping, a library, even a YMCA, and one of Steve's fishing buddies lives close. Paul has agreed to let us stay with him next spring (one more warm winter!!!) once we sell the house until we can transfer our belongings from storage into the new location, however long that takes. It's not like we can do the 1800 mile switch in a single weekend or something. It's not just picking out a home, but a lot as well, out of the ones available at the time, and nobody is going to be flying back and forth on the weekends to make decisions and sign paperwork. We know what we can live with... and what we must have to live, aka accessibility. 

That latter category points out the differences between here and there. Everything in Sun City is single level, with the occasional half step here and there. No upstairs, no basements. But mobile homes are above ground by several feet so they come with stairs. One of the best features about the park we picked is that it is pretty standard to have a sizeable deck outside the door, raised to the same living level, and where needed, long ramps to the ground. The decks are wide enough to screen in a gazeebo on, even the temporary kind like one takes camping. We do have mosquitoes here, after all, whereas I haven't gotten bitten by one in AZ for two years at least. Getting a ramp will be both necessary for Steve, and reasonable, and most of the lots are spaced for it. The usual ones come in all metal with something like a super hardware-cloth base that is both non-slip and passes water and ice through. We will be far from the only residents who need to make use of a ramp in that park.

As to a new home or a gently used one, that will depend on what is available at the time. Lower prices allow for more budget for alterations. The day we visited, 5 spaces were opening, of which two had the old homes removed and the others were sold on site as is. We want 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and wide enough hallways to get through with wheels if necessary. That third bedroom will become pantry, office, and space for a freezer. The regular ones will have smaller beds than we use now since we don't need queens, though of course that means all new linens, which in turn, new or not, reminds us we need - not just want - in-house laundry facilities. The bathrooms will both have showers, not tubs, again fully accessible and reinforced with hand bars, and taller toilets with bidets. 

There will be none of this under-tall-cabinet hanging microwave nonsense in the kitchen. Sure, more counter space that way, but no, my shoulders will not tolerate lifting hot food in and out of high places. A bonus would be if the lower cabinets are pull out drawers, much in use in our senior communities, but I hold little hope that appreciation for those has spread up here. Wall ovens are nice too, working at standing height rather than bending way over for the in and out. I want electricity instead of gas, my nod to the climate crisis.  Over recent years I have come to appreciate both that need, and accessible designs.

My personal requirement for a site is a fairly sunny location for two raised flower beds. Two will mean each is smaller with access on 3 sides and raised means less weeding required (I'm sick of invasive grass and tree seedlings),  especially as I grow older.  I want enough sun also to feed solar panels. The grass can be hired out to have mowing done, also common in that park. Deck top railings will be great for those clamp-on hangers which can hold small bird feeders and suet cakes... outside a good window of course. Speaking of windows, the newest homes come with special glass which helps to maintain the interior climate with less active energy.

There will be losses, in transitioning back to Minnesota. We both love Arizona, the mild winters, no ice to fall on, the community centers with a huge variety of activities and friends. But we both have all our family here in Minnesota now, the last of which on Steve's side just returned back here to live. As we get older, seeing them becomes increasingly important, along with watching the grands and great-grands grow. Two more great-grands are on their way, and we still haven't met one who's already three. We have decided the time to move back is now, while there is still life in the housing market down there, and while there is still life in us to appreciate and tolerate the move. We have decided that the dog will not make the northern trip with us next spring. It will be a cruelty to her to expect her to tolerate a real winter, even in a doggie sweater, when she has so little hair, none on her belly, and spends her life either on a lap, under a blanket, or both at the same time. Even summers in Minnesota are hard for her. A true desert dog, she abhors wet grass. We'll have most of a year to find that solution, along with all the others we need. Rich will have to find his own as well. I wish him luck but whatever his choices, they will be his alone. Not with us. If he chooses to relocate up north, we will provide transportation. Not housing. It's time to rid ourselves of stress where possible, just enjoy each other and support each other. 

Having thought all this out, after many discussions with Steve, you might think I'm sleeping better now. If I were as cranky as last week I'd be tempted to ask, "Are you shitting me?" It is the same uncomfortable bed after all. The shoulders remain unimproved. And the loss of the club/rec center system is hitting hard. There will be shopping to locate decent winter clothing, especially for outdoors. We no longer have boots, hats, mittens, or coats. We haven't needed them for ten years. We'll have to reconnect into the medical system, get new insurance, licenses, voting locations, library cards, etc. We'll have to plan ahead enough that there is no demand to emerge under icy conditions, hence the extra freezer and pantry space. We'll have to figure out where to make new friends with similar interests. Can I find a place to work on jewelry and glass?

Meanwhile I managed to get out in one of the gardens to do a couple hours work this morning. I found my limit and quit when needed. But it felt, finally, like I'm adjusting to MN again. About damn time!