The Bag Lady reflects on Sedona

Art and I bought a timeshare week at the Arroyo Roble Resort in Sedona in 2006. We already had a timeshare at Whistler, British Columbia, and we weren't going to use it one year, so we traded it for a week in Sedona. We had such a fine time there that we bought a week. If you buy in the after-market (an owner no longer wants their unit and offers it for sale) you can get much better prices.

We like Arroyo Roble because it's not part of a chain, it's well maintained and well staffed. From our base on Oak Creek, we can explore the surrounding areas in this part of the state: Native American ruins, mining towns, even the Grand Canyon and Canyon de Chelly.

When we first bought our week, Art and I were both still working, and we used our Sedona timeshare in the winter, to get away from dark and gloomy Seattle. Each January or February you can combine your weeks from the prior year and the current one, so we'd come for two weeks every other year.

We did a lot of hiking in those first years. In a two-week period we'd take probably half a dozen hikes. There are over a hundred well-documented hikes, so we pretty much knew what we'd be getting into when we started off.

Sometimes we'd invite friends to join us. One year an old college roommate of mine, Ann and her husband, Larry  - they live in Toronto but spend several months in the winter at the Voyager RV Resort in Tucson - came up for a few days. Ann suggested that we stop by at the Voyager for a couple of hours before our flight home. We did. We were delighted with the place and spent two months there the next winter in a park model we rented, then bought a year later. We're currently in our eighth season at Voyager, spending more and more time there each year.

Once we began spending our winter time in Tucson, we didn't need the gloomy weather break, so we reserved only one winter week and invited our adult children to join us for a few days. A different combination of kids turned up each year: Laura has been here four times, Melissa three, Peter three, Greg one and, this year, Jason and his family came down. Seems like once they come to Sedona, they want to come back. This year we reserved two units for four days each, and there are nine of us. Laura arrived on Thursday and left on Sunday; Jason and his wife and son arrived on Friday and left on Monday; Melissa, Peter and his girlfriend arrived on Saturday and leave on Tuesday.

Art and Laura at dinner

During these times in Sedona with family, everyone has their own schedule during the day and we meet up for dinner. That gives the more adventuresome ones time to do challenging hikes or Jeep tours or mountain biking, while others relax, swim or spend time in the hot tub or sauna or browsing the many shops in town. Art and I are less active these days, so we get to sleep extra long and read in the quiet and enjoy the family when they arrive home from their outings. And maybe take a short hike.

It's a generational thing. We see ourselves in our offspring as they are still active explorers. There were many years when we paid for meals, and now they are picking up the checks. They are renting their own cars and buying their own plane tickets. It feels good to be passing the torch of responsibility and expenses to them. But it's bittersweet as well, as we look back and remember it was us doing that a decade or so ago.

As it should be.

The smaller things

For the last three years I've been experiencing life larger than I had before - volunteering five times at a refugee camp in Greece, multiple other travel destinations (Sedona, Spokane, Las Vegas, Denver, NYC, Toronto, London, Iceland, Greenland).

I'm no longer traveling to Greece, and for now I've slowed my travel to other places.

But now there are the smaller things:

• We had a low-key holiday season. We plugged in the lights on our little tree each morning. I said, "Alexa, classical Christmas" a dozen times or more, and the music of the season played on low for hours each day, bringing up the best of the memories for me. We had an advent wreath and lit the candles each night, with readings by John Pavlovitz. We went to two music presentations. I went to church on Christmas Eve with my neighbor, a new widow. And on Christmas Day my husband Art fixed prime rib for me and four friends. No gifts given or received, except love and community. I'm grateful to have had just the right amount of holyday experiences.

• We've been volunteering at an asylum seekers' shelter on Saturday evenings. At first it was just us, but now a half dozen or so other people from our retirement community have joined us. Shirley loves to manage the kitchen; Sharon and Judy want all the donated clothes to be sorted out and available to our guests; Art takes charge of bus tickets and getting the travelers to the Greyhound station. My friend Huen is blessedly bilingual. And Pete, brand new last week, wants to go again. I'm grateful to have such company each week.

• Last week at the shelter, there was no underwear for our guests. I put out a plea in my community, and the result was several hundred dollars in cash and checks and almost that many pairs of underwear! I am grateful to live in this generous community.

• I'm no longer doing the accounting for the nonprofit I volunteered for. With the time I'm saving, I can spend more time reading, which I'd set aside as a primary interest. I'm grateful to be able to give up things that no longer engage me and to take up things that do. On Facebook, I signed on for a "chain letter" to post, each day for a week, books that I have loved: The Chosen; Your Money or Your Life; The Kite Runner; Plainsong; Being Mortal; A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; and The Poisonwood Bible. I'm grateful to have had a love of reading instilled in me when I was a little girl.

• Sometime in the next week I'll go to the movies with a friend to see "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" and "Little Women". It has been a long time since I've seen a movie other than on Netflix. I'm grateful for friends to join me.

• As a result of supportive walking shoes, custom orthotics, physical therapy and massage, my body is realigning itself and the discomfort in my back and hip is receding. I'm grateful that my body has somewhat forgiven me for my inattention to its needs.

• I hadn't realized that Larisa, our Designer Cat, has a daily routine. That's probably because I'd been out of the house so often that I didn't notice. But I can pretty much count on her to find my lap at 8:30 in the evening, whether I'm watching TV in our Arizona room or reading in my recliner in the living room. And she goes to bed with us until about six minutes after we turn out the light. I think she really wants to be with us as part of her daily schedule. When we first got Larisa, ten years ago, she wouldn't let us touch her for 62 days. I'm grateful that she's come around!

• My husband and I bought e-bikes. Today he's gone to U-Haul to have a hitch installed on one of our cars, so we can ride together on Tucson's extensive bike trails. I've been going with a good friend, but I'd like Art to have the same experience. Besides, we're taking a bike-and-barge trip in May, and I want us to be prepared so we can really enjoy the adventure. I'm grateful to be able to travel still.

• For four days in January, we will be in Sedona at a timeshare on Oak Creek. We're grateful that four of our children have decided to join us.

• I had a joyful "pay it forward" experience. I was selling a small humidifier for $15 and a woman asked if it was still available. I said yes. She asked if I would take $10, since "I am low on funds and my baby is sick." I said yes and we agreed to meet somewhere at 6 p.m. She wasn't there, and apologized by saying "I was taking care of my baby and lost track of time." I asked when a better time would be. She said, "Really? My friend can meet you at 7. She will be riding her bicycle." I went to the place and waited for the friend. She handed me $10 and I said, "Is there anything else she needs?" She said she didn't know, just that the baby was crying. I gave her back the $10 and said, "Tell her Happy New Year and to pay it forward." Fifteen minutes later I got a thank you message from the young woman. I am grateful for opportunities to help others who haven't been as fortunate as me. 

My very best wishes to you for a peaceful new year.

I don't have to!

Christmas is in eight days. Art and I have an Advent wreath, and candles, and simple readings each evening at dinner. We want to do this.

I don't have to send out Christmas cards or write a Christmas letter. Instead, I keep in touch with friends through Facebook and my blog and face-to-face conversations and phone calls.

I don't have to buy a Christmas tree and put on all the memory-infused ornaments, from when our kids were growing up. Instead, I put up a small artificial tree to display in the window of my small winter home, and appreciate the lovely light it makes.

I don't have to buy gifts for family and friends. Instead, I donate my time to an asylum seekers' shelter and my money to the Salvation Army toy drive - which last year provided a Christmas gift to several thousand children in the Tucson community - and to The Inn Project so volunteers can buy socks and underwear, razors and deodorant, coloring books and crayons and gloves and hats.

I don't have to attend Christmas parties with more people than I'm comfortable with. Instead, Art and I can host a Christmas Day dinner for four woman friends.

I don't have to be perfect when my handbell choir plays next Sunday. I can miss that D# and still feel grateful for the opportunity to do music.

I don't have to make the Christmas cookies from my mother's recipe. Instead, I can lick the beater as Art makes his biscotti with cranberries, which he'll give out in baggies to friends over the next week or so.

I don't have to worry about the state of our divided country. Instead, I can listen to others while they say their truth, and respect what they say, and be grateful that we are all entitled to speak our minds and hearts.

I don't have to spend time wishing I had a younger, more flexible body. Instead, I can do the stretching and strengthening exercises my physical therapist has given me, and I can buy custom orthotics to put in my shoes, and I can take three short walks a day, and I can follow my Mediterranean diet with about 85% compliance and notice as my clothes get looser.

I don't have to!

Five days solo: What the Bag Lady learned

My husband Art had an opportunity to fly home to Seattle on Thanksgiving to assist an "older couple" who needed some help with the airports. We agreed that was a good idea, since he had a small project at home to attend to, and I was fine to spend the time here in Tucson.

Here's what I did while he was gone:

• Had Thanksgiving dinner with my good friend Ellen. She loves to cook and she took the time to plan a menu that fits the Mediterranean diet I've been following for the last couple of months. We were joined at dinner by Mr. Doodles, her cockatiel.

• Had lunch on Friday with my friend Connie. She and I became friends late last spring and both of us are very glad to have found each other. We are both good talkers and we are also good listeners.

• Figured out how to use the remote for our new TV. I never had a chance to learn with the old TV. It is actually pretty easy. And it was nice to have it at my side for the five days I was alone. I found an uplifting Pandora station. For some reason, it's easier to use Pandora on the TV than on my laptop. For me, at least.

• Watched the first three episodes of "Man in the High Castle" on Amazon Prime. 

• Read the draft of a book a friend of mine wrote nearly 20 years ago but never published. It kept my attention to the last page. I could see it as a movie and look forward to talking to her about it tomorrow afternoon.

• Practiced my Spanish on Duolingo every single day.

• Got a massage from a therapist new to me. He's also a personal trainer and he told me about how he trains a person to do a pull-up, so you could pull yourself up if you fell off a cliff or a roof. I would never have guessed, and it actually sounds possible, even for me.

• Did the exercises prescribed by my physical therapist every day. Already I can cross my right knee over my left leg and put on my sock without pain. For the first time in six months.

• Went for a 16-mile ride on my pedal-assist e-bike and fell off, for the first time. I was going too slowly as I attempted a sharp curve. I got right back on the bike. I was a little sore later that day, but have no bruises.

• Got a holiday pedicure with my friend Lynne. Green, with glitter!

• Scrounged for four evening meals, since Art is the cook in our household.

And here's what I learned in my five days solo:

• When you're alone, you decide whether to have the TV on, or the radio, or nothing. You decide what to watch, or listen to. There's no need to consider the preferences of anyone else.

• When you're alone, and a 72-foot string of solar Christmas lights is delivered by Amazon, you can decide to have a friend put them up, or hire someone to do it. That way, you don't have to worry that your husband will scare you by climbing up a shaky ladder to put the solar collector on the roof.

• You don't have to talk because there is no one else in the house.

• When you learn how your husband is spending his loosely planned time in Washington, you are grateful for your own way of scheduling your days.  

• Now that Art is home, it is quieter in our house. I don't have to talk even if there is someone else in the house. 

• And I don't have to suggest or remind. 

The Bag Lady and the rainy day

We spend the winters in Arizona rather than in Washington, where we have our family home. The rain and gloom begins in November there, and usually doesn't end until at least May. I struggled with the winter darkness for the 25 years I lived and worked in the Pacific Northwest. Now that I'm retired I choose the sun.

This week it rained in Arizona. After many weeks of sun it was a nice break; I knew it would last only a few days rather than months.

I'd been struggling with some low back and hip pain for a number of months. Not an injury, maybe related to being overweight or wearing shoes without proper arch support. Usually these things improve with time, but this one hadn't. I finally made an appointment with my doc. She said, "We'll want to get x-rays, and you'll need to get physical therapy. Are you ready for that?"

I said yes. I was weary from not only the chronic physical discomfort, but of thinking about it. I have health anxiety and usually make things much worse in my mind than they actually are.

I got to the x-ray place the next morning. I'd had to turn on my windshield wipers for the first time in several months. I was sitting in the parking lot and realized I'd left the x-ray order on the table at home. The retrieval of the order took half an hour. By the time I was back in the parking lot agin, I had thought way too much about my physical issue, and I did a foolish thing: I ventured alone into the dangerous neighborhood of my mind. And what I concluded, for some reason, was that I've lived a good life, and if I were to die, it would be all right. It wasn't a suicidal thought at all. It was more of an awareness, which is probably a good thing to have when you're 71.

After I got the x-rays I waited to hear from the doc. She didn't call that night so I assumed it was because she was trying to figure out how to tell me I had a tumor in my spine. Really, that's what I thought. See how my mind is a dangerous neighborhood?

I saw the physical therapist the next day. I explained my symptoms. He told me that the muscles in my hip and the muscles in my back were fighting with each other. Something about compensation for a less-than-perfectly-symmetrical alignment - and wearing shoes without good arch support, and being older. He showed me a few exercises and then handed me a paper with pictures of them. I said, "You mean what I'm experiencing is common?" He said, "Oh, yes." I have appointments with him once a week for the next month.

Later that afternoon I got a text message from my doc. She said the x-rays showed arthritis. As, most likely, would be the case for any other 71-year-old person.

So there we are.

But maybe it wasn't the rain that triggered my parking lot thoughts. Here are some other possibilities:

• After five trips to Greece in the last three years to volunteer at a refugee camp, the nonprofit closed its Greece operation last month for lack of funding. The situation in Greece is as bad or worse than it was. Many of the people we helped have moved on; many are still living in the camp or on the streets of Athens. Many new people arrive every day. I keep repeating the starfish story..."It made a difference to that one", but politics and human nature being what they are, I'm not optimistic that things will improve.

• I'm volunteering at an asylum-seekers' shelter in Tucson now, but we haven't had guests for more than a week because people fleeing for their lives from other parts of the world are being held at the border. Again, it's about politics. The situation may improve, but I don't know when.

• I had spent several hours listening to the impeachment proceedings.

On the other hand, there was a fellow named Scott Warren being tried in Tucson for giving humanitarian aid to people who had walked through the desert from the southern border. I heard him speak a few weeks ago, when he acknowledged he was afraid of the possibility of prison. The day after I sat in the parking lot, he was acquitted.

"Humanitarian aid is not a crime."

The sun is out again today, and I had a wonderful massage this morning, and I'm meeting a good friend for lunch, and meeting up with other friends for dinner and a card came. I think I'm okay with being 71.

A shoe story

Until I was about 45, I bought shoes in a size 7 1/2 B. Back then I was looking for style and color.

When I was 52 I walked in the Avon Breast Cancer Three-Day: 60 miles in three days of walking in Seattle. I trained for five months for that event. I needed the perfect clothes - wicking t-shirt, comfy shorts and underwear and socks. And shoes. The shoes were the hardest part.

I ended up with Brooks Addiction shoes from Shane's Food Comfort Center in Shoreline, Washington. In size 8 1/2 wide. With custom orthotics. So outfitted, I was able to walk 20 miles a day. My feet hurt at the end of each walk, of course, but the rest of my body was okay.

For the next ten years I was a Brooks fan; Addiction and Ariel were my go-to walking shoes. I'd call Shane's and ask them to save a pair, that I'd be in to pick them up. They asked if I wanted to try them on and I said no, thanks, I knew my size. My exercise of choice was a two-to-five mile walk, in my neighborhood and in neighborhoods where we traveled.

When I was 63 I hurt my back when I sat in a chair that was a couple of inches lower than I expected. An electrical light show coursed down my legs and left me with tingling feet - like a low-voltage electrical current running night and day. The doctors said I had nerve impingement of some kind - what you can't see on an MRI. They said it would probably resolve with time, but it could take a couple of years. It has been eight years now and it has not resolved.

In the meantime, my tingling feet didn't want to be enclosed in walking shoes. So I looked for more comfortable options. I found neutral Vibrams, then Merinos online in 8 1/2 or 9. Minimal arch support, but my feet were satisfied.

In June of this year - when I was 70 - I took my granddaughter to London. We did a lot of walking. I was wearing my Merinos. By the end of each day I was just about limping from pain in my feet that radiated up to my hips. I thought walking tours were over for me.

In October of this year - when I was 71 - I went to New York City with my friend Ellen. Again, we did a lot of walking. I was wearing my Merinos. By the end of each day I hurt from feet to hips. I sat down whenever I could, and Ellen had to slow down everywhere we went. I felt ancient and defeated.

Then she said over lunch, "You know, Linda, I bought a pair of Merinos at your suggestion, and they are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned - for about a quarter of a mile. But they have no arch support. I didn't even bring them on this trip. I brought my Brooks Addictions."

OMG!

We found a shoe store that carried Brooks shoes half a mile from our lunch place. On the last day of our trip. The salesman grinned when I told him my problem. "Yeah, you need arch support and you probably need a bigger size." He was right on both accounts. I bought a pair of Brooks Ariel shoes. In a size 9 1/2 extra wide.

There is NOTHING like arch support. Or trying shoes on at a shoe store rather than ordering them online for eight years.

We live and learn, I guess.

What the Bag Lady learned in New York City

My friend Ellen and I have planned this four-day trip to New York City. Ellen used to live there, and I have only visited there in 1966, on my high school senior trip, and 1989, when I was meeting up with a friend.

Both of times were before 9/11, and I have wanted to see the 9/11 memorial for years. Ellen wanted to see a Broadway show, pay a second visit to the tenement museum, and eat some good meals.

So I kind of knew what would be happening. But I really didn't. That's pretty common when I travel.

Here's what I learned in those four New York days.

1. If your Tucson-to-Dallas airplane slides around on the runway while taking off, and your Dallas-to-LaGuardia flight lands so hard you're scared, you still arrive safely.

2. If you have a meal at the airport before departing for your Airbnb, you don't get cranky when your traveling companion's futon breaks as she sits down on it, and you go along in a friendly way when she wants to go to the market at 10 at night.

3. If you go six rounds with your Airbnb host because they think you broke the futon and should pay for it, and you know it was broken when you walked into the apartment, you can arrive at a cordial compromise after the super of the apartment building visits you twice. You still know it was broken when you walked in, but sometimes you let things go and split the cost of the super's time with your host. And you leave the nut and machine bolt that came loose from the futon frame on the table on your way out.

4. Lyft is a handy transportation method, but once you figure out how to use public transportation like buses and subways you can get around pretty well. You will still have to walk a lot, though.

5. If you bring along only shoes with no arch support, and you walk three to six miles a day on city sidewalks, you will hurt from your feet to your hips. And if you don't realize the problem is with your shoes until the last day, you will think you are finally falling apart at the age of 71. If you are traveling with a good and caring friend, she will go with you to buy new shoes on the last day. And even if the Brooks Ariel walking shoes cost $175, including tax, you will buy them and be grateful you brought a credit card along. And you wonder why you haven't bought good walking shoes in the last five years, even though you've taken multiple trips and your body has hurt every time.

6. If your friend wants to try a tiny Iranian restaurant, you go willingly, because you remember an Iranian at a refugee camp in Greece who cooked for you several times. And then, after your meal, you talk to the cook and tell him the story about the Iranian in the refugee camp who cooked for you, the cook in the restaurant kisses your hand and gives you a huge hug, and thanks you for reminding him of the days before he left his homeland to come to New York. As you leave, you say, "Welcome to the United States of America."

7. If you visit the Lower East Side Tenement Museum you learn about more of the people who came here from other places, and you appreciate all over again how much difference a storytelling tour guide can make in bringing these people to life. And you are, again, grateful for your own fortunate life. And you eat at Katz' Deli, which is less than a half mile away.

8. A Broadway musical is especially enjoyable when you know most of the songs going in. We saw "Beautiful", the story of Carole King. What was even better was the magnificent set and the staging.

9. When you visit the 9/11 Memorial Museum, the day comes back to you. You remember where you were and what you were doing that morning, and how you felt. When you sit in a room listening to some of the victims' recorded stories, everyone is totally silent. It's like a place of worship.

10. If you are lucky enough to spend an evening with friends of your traveling companion, you may enjoy hors d'oeuvres at a Chinese place, an interesting lecture, dinner at a fabulous Italian place, a drive through Times Square, and a 43rd floor rooftop view of the city at night.

We're flying home tomorrow. We have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to meet our Lyft driver at 5:15 outside our apartment. I hate getting up that earlier.

But oh, well!