RK and I have perfected our style of adventure in many parts of the west. We have finely honed our navigational skills to find solitude, open space and clean air. But we have a new home base.
There is a marmot living under my front porch. I also heard it on the roof (hopefully the roof and not the attic), perhaps having a scuffle with a jay. Most days he/she is lounging on the front step or eating things in the field next door.
I never really wanted to live in Utah. For at least 6 years I claimed to be on the “one year plan.” My problem was with Utah’s urban areas, but the surrounding landscapes turned out to be a huge exploration opportunity.
Yesterday my shoulder surgeon told me I was “stiff, but nice.” I struggled to figure out what nice meant in terms of healing, but then he added, “Most people aren’t very happy with me when their shoulder is still stiff at 12 weeks.” Ugh.