Monthly Archives: August 2013

This morning’s waddle was to and from Punta Sur here on Isla Mujeres:

acontiladoThe east side of the point is Acontilado del Amanacer, “The Cliff of the Dawn”. This is the easternmost point of Mexico, so if you are standing on this point at dawn, you are the first to see the sunrise in Mexico.

(Standing there at sundown isn’t as certain a distinction, since anybody in  deep canyon on the mainland might see the sun set before you do).

Joggling down to the point is about all that I can do now that my shoulder has these stitches in it. The local medicos seem to be of the opinion that I shouldn’t swim as long as I have these stitches (I say “seem to be of the opinion”, since there is a language difficulty, and also they seem to not have the same notion – every day when I get the dressing changed, they do it in a different way).So my vacation has become a bit of a bore – there’s nothing for me to do.

When I was sliding along the asphalt coming off the moto the other day, I remember wondering what the effects of the wreck would be (while the wreck was still in progress). That was a case where the wreck itself was brief, but the consequences started immediately.

Currently, my life is exhibiting a different type of wreck – a train wreck. A train wreck is different from other wrecks in that, when the locomotive has stopped, it still takes a long time for the rest of the cars to derail and pile up – you don’t know how extensive the damage will be until all of the cars stop moving.

This is the sort of thing that happens to folks who hit a sudden life-changing event that drives them into AA – they come in and get sober, but the consequences of their actions may not even finish showing up for months or years. Ruined marriages or businesses, financial or legal troubles may not even present themselves until long after the events that precipitated them have occurred.

My current train wreck is the result of my having changed jobs almost two years ago at Go Daddy. That decision resulted in the locomotive going off the rails about six weeks ago, when I lost my job. Ouch.

But then, the other train cars started piling up; things that I hadn’t thought about when the job itself went away. (This is probably reasonable, as I’ve never been unemployed since I got out of school.)

We were selling our home in Arizona; we hadn’t been sure about that, but when it seemed obvious that I might be losing my job, we went ahead and put it on the market. That, combined with taking a job out of state, meant that we no longer lived in the city with my two sons and their families.

Oh, wow – we lost our home group of eight yeas in Anthem, and the fellowship with those friends, and I lost my own group of eight years in Scottsdale, and who knows when I’ll see those folks again.

And now I work for a company where I will have to be in the office, rather than working remotely whenever I wish. Hadn’t thought about that – that changes a LOT of things. Now we won’t have our home at the ski hill in Colorado any more, or our membership at the Durango Mountain Club, or the ability to ski every day at lunch. Yeah, we’ll be living in Park City, UT, where the skiing is much better, but we’ll have to actually schlepp our gear to the mountain on ski days. Doesn’t sound like much, until you’ve lived the other way : )

Also gone is our home-away-from-home group in Durango and our membership at the Hillcrest Golf Club, playing eighteen holes surrounded by mountain peaks at 80 degree temps in the summer.

Since we both telecommuted, we had plans about a Mexican beach house someday – actually, maybe not too far away. So I was studying Spanish consistently. Now that’s gone, and I can’t get up the gumption to even finish the five levels of my Rosetta Stone.

And there were a lot of options left on the table at Go Daddy; that was my “gonna be rich some day” pot at the end of the rainbow. That’s the sort of thing that lives at the back of one’s mind until it is gone, and then it suddenly comes to the forefront of one’s consciousness.

It’s official. I’m not gonna be rich someday : )

These are the cars of the train wreck; new things crash into my awareness that are the result of that decision two years ago that caused the loss of the job six weeks ago.

Now, I am aware that God is running my life. I believe that what He has planned for me is better than what I could plan for myself. I have a faith that rings true telling me that the things that are gone are not as good as the things that He has in front of me.

And I’m also aware that I was not happy in my previous job, and I have every reason to believe that the new job is going to be a much better fit, and I’m excited about the job, the training, and the people that I will be working with.

And I know that my new employer (the temporal one, not the Eternal one 🙂 is a great company to work for, and who knows what will happen down the road?

But I have to let go of the things that I have “lost”, and I can’t even know that I have LOST them until I become aware of the changes.

So I have to watch the cars derail, with a pained smile as I see each one go off of the tracks : )


This morning, I got up early and got in a short run to Punta Sur and back.

Then I rode my moto to a Spanish-speaking meeting in El Centro. While I was there, it rained. When I was on the way home, I must have tried to turn too sharply on the street, as the moto I was on went down, and me with it, and I slid along the street.

This seemed way too reminiscent of my motorcycle wreck a few years back; while I was sliding along the road, feeling my right side getting ripped up, I thought, “AGAIN?”

OuchMost of the road rash on my right side – along with the banged-up palm on my left hand – will heal up on its own, but that shoulder cut was a bit nasty. Turns out that it required stitches inside and out.

it was a bit funny – I stood up after the wreck, and folks had stopped their motos and cars and were all talking to me, much faster than i could understand. They had called an ambulancia, but I didn’t WANT an ambulancia.

I didn’t have my phone with me, so I couldn’t call Ethel and tell her what had happened, so I got back on the moto and – after an abortive attempt to find the hospital on m y own – I went back to the beach house to tell Ethel what had happened. I was then going to drive myself to the hospital, but the blood pulsing out of my shoulder had Ethel way too upset to let me do that by myself, so we had to go through all of the drama of a shower, putting butterflies on the wound, getting a taxi and going to the hospital.

So now I’ve been in a Mexican Urgencia. That was a delightful experience, at least in terms of getting quick, friendly and cheap service : ) The hour on the table, with three health-care pros, and the prescription were a good bit less than twenty bucks, all totaled.

It’s gonna be a while before I can go diving again. I’m not even sure when I will be running again. Right now, I’m not interested in doing ANYTHING again. And I suspect that I’m just going to be more sore tomorrow than I am right now : )

Two dives this morning, off the northeast shore of Isla Mujeres


The dives this morning went down to 70 feet – a reef dive, and then a wreck dive.

One thing that I’m not good at is equalizing pressure through my Eustachian tube. Yesterday, I sorta freaked Ethel out because my mask had blood in it. That “blood in the snot” thing. This morning, we went a lot deeper, but I went a lot slower, keeping hold of the reference line, and was able to keep equalizing pressure at least once per meter; by the time I was under 40 feet or so, it got a lot easier. Funny that it’s easier the deeper I go, but I’d heard that that was the case.

Saw a bunch of fish. Now, Ethel waxes lyrical about swimming through clouds of sea life, but I just saw a lot of fish : ) Plus eels and sessile life and a big manta ray.

And a sunken boat – a Honduran shrimp boat that broke in two as it went down, so that the stern was some distance away from the bow and midship. That’s pretty cool, swimming around a wreck like that. It was way too small for us to go into the wreck, though.

I enjoy diving, but it is a passion for Ethel. I can take it or leave it alone – Ethel seems to have a diving problem : )

We turn around and do a third dive tonight – a night dive. That will be our fifth Advanced Open Water dive, which will get us our certification. Then we will no longer be novice divers. During this course of dives, we’ve had to do each dive with an instructor. After this, we’ll be able to just rent tanks and jump in the water, or go out in a boat with a divemaster.

(while typing this, I found it necessary to go to YouTube and watch the “Under the Sea” musical segment from “The Little Mermaid”. I don’t know why : )



My back is out.

It went out on Saturday, but I managed to run 11 miles anyway. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. I’m never sure whether I should train through an injury or avoid training. I seem to be batting around .500 in making those decisions.

It’s getting in my way of doing a lot of things. But that is NOT why I’m not doing the C-58 dive tomorrow south of Isla Mujeres, seen here:

C-58(image from the web – obviously, I haven’t taken this picture : )

Yesterday we did two dives – an “underwater naturalist” dive (i.e. see the pretty fishes”) and a navigation dive – moving around on the bottom with a compass.

We were planning on doing C-58 tomorrow, which is a wreck south of the island. However, I’m having trouble equalizing pressures through my Eustachian tubes; it takes me a long time to get things equalized.

And C-58 is a fast deep dive; one has to descend quickly because of the current. And I can’t descend quickly. I’m not sure, as I type this, that I’ll ever be able to complete a deep dive, because my ears hurt, dang it!
When I finished yesterday’s dives, I had blood in my snot. (there’s probably a better, more….sensitive way of saying that. But I have no idea what it is, and I’m not going to spend much time looking for one. Please feel free to replace that phrase with whatever phrase you like – ‘hemo-phlegm’ or ‘leucocytes in my loogies’).
So my back and my ears aren’t delivering up to snuff. That’s what I get for having a body. I can assure you – as soon as I can get away with not having a body, I’m gonna get rid of the dang thing. It’s just a bother to have one – it requires upkeep and maintenance, and no matter what you do, it wears out in sixty or seventy years anyway. (come to think of it, I reckon right now I could say ‘it wears out in fifty four years anyway, no matter what you do”).
I’m having all sorts of insights during this trip. One of them is this – I finally figured out why I don’t like the “everybody get the check and split down the middle” way of eating out in groups.
It’s not as simple as “I don’t want to pay for his salmon”, although that’s a simple derivation of it. It’s a more generalized principle – I don’t want anyone else to live with the consequences of my decisions, and I don’t want to have to live with the consequences of their decisions.
There is only one person on this planet whose Karma I have chosen to share, and there are two differences between my relationship with her and my relationships with everybody else:
* She and I share many core values.
* She and I will CONTINUE to live with the consequences of the other’s decision.
The first point is a simple and essential part of picking one’s mate, although it may require a few iterations to get right. I suspect that that is why “oh we are so much in love smoochie-oochums” is a terrible reason to get married; if you don’t share the same values, then in the long run the decisions that each makes will truly start to wear on the other. “Why did she do THAT?” – because she doesn’t have the same priorities that you do, dude. That’s why.
The second is the “one flesh” rule. Anything that I do that seems to give me a short-term benefit at her expense will, in the long run, wind up hurting me, because she and I are going to be together as long as we are in the aforementioned bodies.
But if we all meet briefly and we all decide to share consequences briefly, then whoever makes the worst decisions at the others’ expense wins, and everybody else loses.
Since I’m sick enough to see things that way, I don’t want to wind up in a situation where I might be tempted to take advantage of such a situation. Or where I might imagine other people doing such.
I suspect that it’s that same old “personal liberty/personal responsibility” rule that is do deep in my psyche that it will never be ripped out – liberty is only liberty to the point where one is responsible for one’s actions. Beyond that, it is tyranny of the other.

When everybody is responsible for everything, then nobody is responsible for anything.

I’d rather live in the world where you are responsible for you and yours, and me for me and mine. And I have decided that I am GOING to live in that world. If I find myself in a situation like that again, I will extricate myself from it as quickly as I can, cutting my losses as I go.

We are on Isla Mujeres, MX, just a half-hour ferry ride east of Cancun.

ISLA MUJERESWe are on the southeast coast, about two-thirds of the way down – right there at the edge of the green area. My run yesterday went down to Punta Sur (South Point) and back, about 3.6 miles. It’s not a very big island : )

I’ve been busy, busy busy since my last post. Now things are slowing down, because they have to slow down, since I’m on a Caribbean island.

The townhome purchase in Park City is moving forward now without my help. I’m supposed to start work at WorkDay in two weeks and one day – and I have to go to California to start work (orientation at the home office). Things are happening around me that I cannot speed up or slow down.

Meanwhile, here on the island, we’re supposed to be at the dive shop in three minutes for a wreck dive this morning. That doesn’t seem to be happening – Ethel, Miss “let’s be everywhere early”, was told that even though the dive shop told us to be there at 8:20, we shouldn’t be there for an hour or so, because “island time”. If I were the one saying that, then I’d be in trouble; instead, I’m the one saying “we’re spending big bux to do these dives, Ethel, maybe we should be there on time?” has caused me to be in trouble.

And suddenly Ethel has decided that we should, indeed, be there on time. Just now. Gotta go.

After eating at El Chubasco we drove back to Salt Lake by going up and over Guardsman’s Pass into Big Cottonwood Canyon.

One of us said “Where are the moose?”

Then traffic slowed.

mortyThis little guy – not more than seven feet tall or so – was holding up traffic.

This is so Utah. I saw a few moosen in Vermont when we lived there. There are moose that have been reintroduced in the Silverton area, but we’ve never seen one. But I’ve had all kinds of moose encounters in the Wasatch and Uintah mountain ranges. There seem to be a surplus of the big guys there.

On Sunday, we drove up to Mirror Lake in the Uintahs. It was impressive as always, but it was rainy. But it didn’t seem to dampen my spirits any; just knowing that I was near Ruth Lake gave me the grins.

Now it’s a Tuesday. I’ve set my start date to work for September 3rd; we’re leaving on Friday for two weeks with friends on Isla Mujeres in the Caribbean. That means that I have only three days left in Utah (this time around). Yes, the Caribbean is wonderful and I love Isla Mujeres. But I am in no hurry to leave Utah just yet.

What happens if it goes away while I’m gone?


There’s the story of the Prodigal Son, who took his inheritance early from his father.

He went to a far country, where he squandered his substance in riotous living (i.e. blew it all on booze and babes) and then, when he was in dire straits and realized his mistake, he went home, and all was restored to him.

Here I sit at El Chubasco in Park City, UT, eating a Mole Burrito, this last Saturday.

moleburritoOnce upon a time, I lived in Park City, UT. I had a great job in downtown Salt Lake, a short 20 minute commute from my ski house in the Summit Park neighborhood of Park City.

On the weekends, I would go to El Chubasco and eat a Mole Burrito. I would often decide before I got to El Chub’s that I would order something else, but it never stuck – I always got the Mole Burrito.

Then I did some stupid stuff.

I took a job in Scottsdale, AZ, and I left my great job in downtown SLC and my home in Summit Park. The next eight years – well, there were good things that happened. I made good friends. My youngest son found his girlfriend. My eldest moved to Phoenix and brought out his girlfriend, and we got the gift of a local grandson.

But I never completely quit regretting having left Park City.

Now I’ve lost the job that I went to Arizona for. My youngest has his life with his girlfriend, and doesn’t need us. My eldest is moving back to the Southeast, taking the girl and the grandson. So there’s nothing to keep me in Phoenix.

And I now have a new great job in downtown Salt Lake. I have put in an offer – and it’s been accepted – on a townhome in Summit Park, about twenty minutes from the aforementioned great job. We close on that home in late September.

And here I am, two days ago, at El Chubaso, eating a mole burrito.

I…am grateful. Very, very grateful  😉