thatnursewrites

Obsessions come and go. Some fade away with time and others cause problems and have to be handled appropriately. Some grow over time and others hit you when you least expect it. Take my one of my latest obsessions. This one hit me when I least expected it.

It happened last summer. It was a sticky, hot July day. It was the end of my work week and I was exhausted but I needed to stop to buy new tires for my car becasuse I didn’t want to have to deal with it on a weekend day.

The tire salesman scolded me as I checked my car in. Apparently tire price quotes only last thirty days and mine was clearly expired. Whatever. Thank you sir for honoring the price quote. Now I won’t walk out of your store without tires. He also rather bluntly informed me that I should have called ahead because this job would take a few hours. They had to get my tires from another location. Fine, I’ll take a nap in your comfortable, air conditioned waiting room.

I walked into the waiting room, called my husband to tell him I’d be home late and then I sat down. I really did intend on taking a nap but I glanced at the television first and the nap flew out the window. The History Channel was on and there was a show I didn’t recognize but it caught my attention immediately and I decided to watch it to pass the time. There in the waiting room of a tire store, my obsession with The History Channel series Mountain Men was born.

I’m going to start out by saying I am not a huge television watcher. I do not watch every reality show, sit com or drama on network television at night. I’m picky about the series that I choose to follow and I try at all costs not to binge watch. Sure I have my moments of all day tv and binge watching but it’s not too often.

Mountain Men is a different story. I’ve never seen anything like this before so of course I was intrigued and through the course of a few months, I binge watched all of the seasons.  At the time I discovered it, Mountain Men was a few weeks into Season 4, so I’ll start out with Season 4. The premise behind this series is to show the viewer how the other half lives and introduce viewers to people who live off the grid. These men live at least 100 miles away from the nearest town or grocery store and although some of them own automobiles and a few have electricity and running water, every one of them shoots their meat and grows their food.

Season 4 Cast of Characters:

Kyle Bell lives in New Mexico’s Cimarron Valley and is a hunter and outfitter who is teaching his 11 year old son Ben to be a mountain man. The footage of the west is gorgeous and the lessons he taught his son on hunting, camping, fire starting and animals were actually informative.

Rich Lewis lives in Ruby Valley Montana. With the help of his team of trained dogs, he protects the community by chasing mountain lions, bobcats and wolves deep into the wilderness. I enjoy his gruff personality and the way he trains his dogs to track scents of predators and chase them out.

Morgan Beasely is new this season. This guy bought a parcel of land in the Alaka Wilderness and is hiking 200 miles to get to his land to build a homestead because he doesn’t like to fly in planes. He is well versed and obviously well trained to live in the wilderness. I hope to see more of him soon.

Eustace Conway lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. He calls his land Turtle Island. I read a book about this guy. He’s a naturalist and actually has bachelors degrees in Anthropology and English. He lives a primitive life style. grows his food and there have been a few episodes where he’s eaten road kill or killed a squirrel and eating it right there. He does not have running water or electricity, the electrical power he has on his property for his tools comes from a stream. He also has a 100 year old saw mill for which he uses to cut and sell lumber.

Tom Oar lives in Yaak River Valley, Montana. He’s a trapper and a tanner. He uses ancient Native American techniques to tan hides, makes knives, arrows, moccasins, clothing etc. He uses every part of the animal’s body to make his living.

Marty Meierotto is an Alaskan Trapper that resides in Two Rivers, Alaska with his family. He flies a bush plane during the winter to remote areas of the Alaska wilderness to trap fur to make his living. This guy fascinates me. He’s also knowledgeable and well versed and probably my favorite. I’ve done lot’s of googling on him and have also learned that during the summers he’s a smoke jumper for the Alaska Fire Service and also teaches log cabin building.

When I first got hooked on the show my initial question was what kind of psychological or psychiatric do these guys have to make them want to live in the woods away from society? I was so intrigued by the off the grid life style, I did what I always do when I want to learn about something…. I read. I read a book written by Elizabeth Gilbert about Eustace Conway and I have read seven books about people who cashed in their urban lives to live off the grid in the Alaska wilderness in addition to watching a few you tube videos. I also follow someone on Instagram who moved to Alaska a few years ago in a similar situation. What I learned was something very simple: These people aren’t crazy, they just decided to take a road less traveled. They choose to live an uncomplicated life on their terms.

Would I be able to shoot and kill a moose or a deer, skin it, dismember it and eat it? Hell no. I can’t even do that to a fish. Would I be able to sell my house, cars, furniture, cash in my 401K and just move to the Alaska bush? Lol I’d like to. Some days I’d like to very much when I feel overstimulated but I have to settle for watching an episode of Mountain Men when I get home from work.  In reality I’m not sure if I’d have to courage to pack up, check out of the urban life and move into the middle of no where  but I have the deepest admiration for the people who do and am very thankful that some of them write books.

Then why bother to even write this post if I’m not going to move to Alaska? Because learning how the other half lives has taught me to learn to simplify my own life. Try not to make things so complicated, get outside more, enjoy nature, take care of yourself, let your mind wander, relax, have fun. For my husband and I right now, our lives are consumed with demanding full time jobs and the activities of our children. We have four more years of this kind of busy. Our son is off to college in the fall and our daughter will enter high school. There is a light at the end of the tunnel of pandemonium. Until then, I’ll simplify as much as I can. I’m learning how and I’m enjoying the activities I’ve begun to engage in.

Mountain Men Season 5 premier airs tonight at 10/9c. I can hardly contain myself!

 

I went on a little adventure on Friday. What I gained from it is a priceless sense of independence and empowerment. I’d experienced this activity countless times with my family but have had a growing urge to try this alone. I’ve lacked the courage to do so in the past for two reasons: my sense of direction is a few fries short of a happy meal and I didn’t want to be murdered by the Boogie Man. Friday changed all of that for me. I finally went hiking in the woods by myself! 

We have the privilege of living near a state park that has a diverse ecosystem with an abundance of of wildlife, trails, streams and a river that I’ll never get tired of looking at. This place is becoming my new best friend, gym and place of solitude where I can leave my worries, my busy schedule and my job at the entrance of the trail. 

I realized as I was parking my car that I’d forgotten the map of the park that my husband had printed for me so I had to hike the trail relying solely on my memory from the one and only hike I’d taken on this particular trail with my family the weekend before. Fortunately this park color codes the trails. Once I found the turn off for the blue trail I knew I was on my way. 

My first obstacle was to cross a small stream. I’ve crossed plenty of streams and rivers but this one was different. I was alone. I had to survey the stream to find the safest place for me to cross. It was a tricky little stream with large rocks under water that could be slippery and if I stepped wrong I could fall. I was able to cross the stream and check box that obstacle. 

My sense of awareness changed after I crossed the stream and entered the deeply wooded area. My ears and eyes were in the drivers seat. My ears identified each and every word that nature spoke; the hollow sound of my footsteps on the ground, birds welcoming me, raindrops softly hitting the  fallen leaves and of course the silence. Occasionally I’d hear a cracking sound and wondered if it was an animal traveling through the brush or a branch that had fallen from a dead tree. My eyes focused on my surroundings, the beauty of the forest and the patches of blue painted on various trees indicating that I was on the blue trail. Look for blue. Stay on blue but don’t forget to do a 360 every once in awhile to make sure the boogy man isn’t behind you. 

I hiked along, kept my eyes open for blue, and remembered every land mark I’d made a mental note of from my hike with my family the weekend before. I listened intently to everything nature whispered to me. Each time I changed elevation, the woods presented me with a different flora to observe and a new appreciation for the experience. 

After I was about three quarters of the way through the trail I encountered a fork in the trail. Orange was to the left, blue was to the right. I did not remember this part from my previous hike with my family but I was alone and I had to decide what to do. I chose orange because it veered left and I felt that was to the direction that take me to the main entrance trail. I started getting nervous because I didn’t recognize the scenery but I knew as long as I stayed on a trail I wouldn’t be lost. From a distance I could hear the sound of the flowing river telling me I’d soon pick up the blue trail and sure enough I did. 

I could not contain the smile that came across my face as I approached the main trail that would take me out of the park. I didn’t want to leave but it was time for me to re-enter society, go to the grocery store for the ingredients for the supper that I’d make and then greet my children as they arrived home from school. 

I grew up in an era when kids played outside. I spent plenty of time outside with my brothers and the kids in our neighborhood swimming, riding bikes, playing ball and getting dirty. My family did not however, have an appreciation for the outdoors. We didn’t hike, fish, camp or spend time on the water the way my husband’s family did. 

Each decade of my adulthood has had a different theme. I am now midway through my third decade of adulthood and the theme of this one has been to earn a bachelors degree, change jobs, participate in my children’s extra curricular activities and stand by my husband as he earned a master’s degree. It is in this decade that I have developed a hunger, yearning and an interest in the outdoors. I want to be able to occasionally leave the craziness of life at the entrance of the trail to hike, fish and eventually learn to camp. 

I believe that everything comes in time at the right time. As the decades of my life unfold there will be more time for the outdoors but I know where that trail is, that I can hike it by myself and that when I need to leave society at the entrance of the trail if only for a few hours it’s there waiting. 

Nurse by Day, Painter By Night

Recently I attended my first “Paint Nite”. One of my coworkers sent out a group text message in December with the idea of getting a group together and I’d been eager to try so I jumped at the opportunity.

The venue was a gym that happened to be a large enough to house a little pizza place in the lobby. That was a contradiction in itself, here we were stuffing our faces on pizza, calzone and alcoholic beverages while the gym members were pumping iron and sweating it out on a Friday night. I realized later it wasn’t the best place for a paint night. It was difficult for us painters to hear our hostess because we could also hear echoing sounds from the gym; weight lifters grunting, weights clinking into place and the hum of exercise machines.

I arrived early enough to observe the paint night hosts set up for the evening. There were three rows of long tables and chairs. Each table seat contained an easel with a canvas, a Styrofoam plate with a splat of yellow, blue, black, white, red and brown paint and an extra plate. Under each plate was a paper towel. The paintbrushes were passed out next. There was large fat brush, a medium brush and a skinny small brush. The last thing passed around was a cup of water that would be used for rinsing our brushes.

The tables filled quickly with guests greeting friends and ordering snacks and drinks in preparation for the event. Our Paint Nite Hostess gave everyone time to get settled, greeted the group and our Paint Nite was underway. We started by raising our glasses and repeating an oath that began with several sentences of, “I promise”. I promise not to get frustrated. I promise not to say my painting stinks etc. Our hostess discussed all of our supplies, the paints, the easel and canvas, the water and the brushes and it was time to raise our brush for the first stroke.

We were instructed to use our large brush to wet the canvas with water and then cover the canvas with white paint. The act of stroking the brush onto the canvas with paint for the first time gave me a feeling of exhilaration. At that moment I was nothing else but a painter and all of the worries of the outside world were nowhere to be found in my subconscious mind. The act of stroking the paintbrush from one end of the canvas to the other gave me a new found sense of freedom. Next it was time for blue. The hostess instructed us to paint several diagonal blue streaks onto the canvas and then brush white paint into it. This was our sky. Our hostess encouraged us to add our own flair to the painting by using different colors if we wanted to. I had to laugh at a girl sitting a few seats down. She said she didn’t know enough about painting and colors to deviate from the norm. I nodded my head in agreement. I experimented with a few different colors of the sky and my sky looked like a storm was coming so I tried to get it as close to the blue sky as I could and had some success.

It was time to rinse off our large brushes, dry the brush and dip the large brush into brown paint to paint the branches of the trees. I watched our hostess carefully as she demonstrated and then I watched my friend to my left, took a deep breath and stroked the canvas with brown paint to form branches. Ok I can do this. I didn’t care for this next part though. The hostess instructed us to put white paint on the top of the branches, which I did and it made my branches look washed out. I didn’t let it put a damper on my enthusiasm; I just made a mental note to deviate the next time I don’t agree with something.

With each new structure on the painting, I found myself becoming more comfortable, I was finding my groove. We mixed blue and yellow paint to make two different shades of green, a dark green and a light green. As we put the leaves on the trees, some of the painters used long strokes to paint the leaves. I remembered the scene in the movie Stepmom where Julia Robert’s character teaches the young girl to paint leaves on trees by spackling. I spackled my leaves giving them a fern like appearance. I was pleased with that. I also added random long green strokes to some of the branches to give it some variety.

The final component of the painting was the cardinal birds. The first bird was a nightmare. I realized that I should have worn my glasses because I had difficulty seeing the hostess with her painting to my left and at the other end of a long table. It was also becoming loud in the gym. My first bird turned out to look like a fat red sea horse. The hostess helped me adjust it but it made it worse and I seemed to lose understanding of when to use the two shades of red we had created by mixing red, yellow and white paint together. Inside I was nervous about messing up the second bird. I lived in Saint Louis, Missouri for nine years and grew to love the Saint Louis Cardinals. It took me several minutes to begin the second bird. I finally mustered up the courage to put my first stroke on the second bird. Miraculously my second bird came naturally and I ended up loving it. I added my finishing touches to the bird and the rest of the painting, wrote JAC 16 in the lower right hand and my first painting was complete. I was pleased.

Last year, at the recommendation of a mentor, I purchased a book called “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. It is a twelve-week program designed for artists of all kinds to recover their creativity from a variety of blocks. One thing I have learned is that in order to enhance your preferred form of creativity, you must partake in different forms of creativity. Last summer I picked up my cross stitch again after a fourteen year hiatus. While on vacation, I cross stitched, read and stared at the lake. I felt my creativity creeping back in. That’s why this paint night was perfect for me as a writer. I have a new creative outlet to partake in. I’ve been curious about Paint Nite for over a year. I recently a purchased paint by number set from my craft store with the intention of trying a painting out if I didn’t get into Paint Nite soon. I look forward to the perfect week in “The Artist’s Way” that I can enhance my creativity by sitting down to paint. My biggest writing block is clutter. When my life becomes cluttered in several aspects, my creativity fades away. It is my goal for January to get rid of clutter, revisit “The Artist’s Way”, write and paint. It is doubtful that I’ll every become a Picasso but why not fill my writing room with my paintings?

 

I’m trying to figure out how to post photos