Floating Birds, Hummingbirds... Wounded Birds

I awoke Tuesday morning to a familiar whoooosh sound. Familiar... but foreign, too. It took me a few seconds to place it.

Balloon!

I rushed out onto the balcony -- camera in hand -- and caught some quick pictures of the first official hot air balloon sighting of my return to New Mexico. "Official," because this was the first time I was able to capture photographic proof; I saw one a LOT closer to the apartment last Saturday, but didn't have my camera at the time.

So, that was a pretty neat way to wake up, I think. Come Balloon Fiesta time, this place should be a neat spot in the mornings.

As I type this, I'm preparing to head north of Seattle, for the annual Arlington air show. I sincerely hope I make it there, as the trip is on US Airways -- rated in most major polls as the single worst airline in the country. Should be fun. I leave EARLY Thursday, get back EARLY Monday (as in, 3:00 am) and then have all of three days to get ready for Oshkosh, which already looks to be an arduous show.

I bitch... but it's better than sitting in a cubicle.


In addition to propane burner wake-up calls, I've also been able to become reacquainted with some other trappings of the Land of Enchantment, too. I have regular hummingbird guests to my feeder -- I hadn't realized how much I missed hummingbirds!

Sunday, I drove my Mom and I up to Sandia Crest... a tourist-y thing, OK, but it was also cool to be in the mountains again. And, it should be noted, at an altitude of 10,678 feet -- over 10,000 feet higher than standing outside my door in Addison. My former door in Addison.

And speaking of Texas... I stumbled upon the reason why "my" plane went down for repairs the week before I left Dallas. There's an NTSB report on it, which is never a good sign. Turns out a crosswind caught the plane during takeoff from Grand Prairie, and sent the plane off the runway and into a shallow drainage ditch. As the prelim states, one of the maingear legs and the nosegear gave way... which probably led to wing damage, as well as a prop strike and, maybe, engine damage (the blades of the plane's Woodcomp prop are designed to splinter off, which in theory saves the engine from seizing.)

Both people onboard are OK, which of course is the most important thing... but N676EV is the first plane I've ever flown, that later got wrecked. I honestly don't know if it will ever fly again; it's off the schedule completely at Aviator. If it is repairable, it's down for the count for the foreseeable future.


This sounds weird... but I kind of feel like a friend got hurt, and I'm now in a different state and not able to make it out to see if they're OK or not. Yeah, I'm anthropomorphizing... but planes tend to lend themselves to that, and this little airplane represented more to me than most. So I'm not apologizing.

I hope you fly again, my friend.

Deja Vu Uv Ajed

Wow. I still can't believe I'm back here. Settling back into life in New Mexico has been all about coming to terms with the mix of the old with the new.

The apartment is new... and big... and very much to my liking. I'm really happy with how everything came together -- I spent the morning of the Fourth of July putting the larger items in their proper places, and throwing the rest of it into closets and the second bedroom/office. 

(Most of that has been sorted out today.) My old furniture looks better here, than it did cramped into my one-bedroom pad in Dallas.

The old is far more prevalent. Already, I've been to my old Wal-Mart... my old Albertson's grocery store... my old Starbucks. Tomorrow, I plan to get the Mazda washed at my old car wash, and meet some friends at my old Gardunos. All are places I used to visit regularly when I lived nearby, and in the North Valley. Driving through Corrales feels exactly the same as it used to, three years ago. So does driving down Montano.

There are even more buildings and businesses around here than when I lived at Cottonwood Ranch in 2000... and I thought there were a lot then. But it was very refreshing to drive down Coors Road at 8:45 am Monday morning -- still in the heart of rush hour in Dallas -- and marvel at the almost complete lack of traffic on the busy corridor. Albuquerque is a sleepy town, even in the mid-morning hours, compared to the metroplex.

I'll admit, there have been many things to make me feel right at "home" here, again. Watching the fireworks show at Balloon Fiesta Park from my balcony last night, with my friend Jen, was cool. Seeing a hummingbird use my feeder Wednesday morning -- it was one of the first things I set up after I moved, I really missed seeing hummingbirds in Dallas -- also gave me a heartened feeling. Ditto seeing a roadrunner scurry across the road as I drove to pick up my DVR player from Comcast on Monday.

Okay Albuquerque, you have one last chance. I've ran from you twice before -- the second time was much more well-reasoned than the first -- and I've come back to you every time... each time, somewhat against my will. But I swear, this time I'll try to appreciate you more than I have before.

I will admit, you've given me a good first week back.

****

The trip here wasn't as fraught with drama as it could have been, I guess. But it had it's share of angst, something that was almost totally lacking from my experience moving out to Dallas three years ago.

Loading up the truck couldn't have gone more smoothly. Lee showed up with the truck right on time; Shoe followed a short time after, followed by Quinn and then her hubby Monk. We had the truck completely loaded up in just over an hour, and managed to just avoid the rain. "OK, one-third of the move is complete," I told myself with relief Friday night, as I followed Lee in the truck back to his house, where I was staying overnight. The plan called for us to head westward first thing Saturday morning.

And then I noticed Lee had the hazards flashing on the truck... and that he was driving along a bit slower than normal. I called his cell number... and, essentially, told him "Don't f*** with me, stop acting like there's something wrong with the truck."

He wasn't acting. Somewhere along 121 towards McKinney, the truck dropped fourth gear. It wouldn't upshift, no matter what Lee tried, and as a result it couldn't go much over 50 mph.

So, instead of heading out Saturday morning, we slept in a bit and then tackled the problem of trying to convince a mechanic to come out and take a look at things. One agreed to, but he was out in Fort Worth and didn't think he could get out to McKinney -- on the opposite extreme side of DFW -- until mid-afternoon. Which left Lee and I to attempt to diagnose the problem.

Despite all the symptoms indicating the problem was a air leak coming from around the "boots" that connected the engine's turbocharger to its intake system, Lee remained convinced the problem was with the transmission. We had checked the fluid last night, and it had shown low. But there were no other signs of tranny trouble; the truck shifted normally until hitting the wall in 4th, and there was no smell of hot or burning tranny fluid.

Still, with a hard deadline of meeting the movers in ABQ (who had already graciously agreed to move off my unloading appointment, from Sunday morning to late afternoon) we weren't going to leave any stones unturned. So off we went to the auto parts store, to find transmission fluid.
Which worked. After an hour of testing the truck by driving around McKinney, Lee pronounced it fit for the open road.

After debating whether to head out right then and there -- by now, it was pushing 4 pm -- or waiting until Sunday morning, we opted for the latter. That gave all of us -- me, Lee, Diana, and the kids -- one more night together in Dallas. Diana made a great dinner, we all played "Guitar Hero" on Playstation II (I now have a newfound respect for guitar players) and I screened the awesome skating video Monk and I had spent the past 17 months recording (seriously... the vid kicks so much ass, it could have its own summer blockbuster.) All in all, it was a really nice, last night in Texas, with my "second family."

The next morning at 5 am, we were on the road. Lee's stepdaughter Aarynd rode with him in the truck, and the other three kids piled in the Mazda with me (they were on their way back to ABQ to spend some time with their dad.) Despite driving more or less straight through from Dallas to Amarillo, we did not meet up with Lee until west of AMA.

Though we were delayed 45 minutes due to a traffic jam on I-40 -- caused by a semi that caught fire and essentially melted east of Tucumcari -- we were still making pretty good time. But it was going to be tight... I had told the movers to meet us at the apartment at 5:30. It was 2 pm by the time we were free of the traffic.

Somehow -- and I'm still not sure how this happened -- everyone met up in schedule. After transferring the youngest to my car in Moriarty, I dropped the kids off at their dad's in southeast Albuquerque, as Lee headed to the apartment. He beat me to the apartment by three minutes, and the movers arrived within five minutes of that. My friend Jim met us as the movers were unloading their equipment... and 90 minutes later, everything was unloaded, hauled up the stairs, and placed wherever it would fit in my apartment.

Hard to believe that was only five days ago.

It's Time

Well, this is it.

It is my solemn prayer that at this time, 24 hours from now, all my belongings will be safely onboard Lee's truck... preferably without getting soaked by the ever present rains that have drenched North Texas since -- well, January, or so it seems.

Since I'm already praying, let me add I also hope that, 48 hours from now, the aforesaid truck and belongings are in Albuquerque, waiting to be unloaded Sunday morning. And yeah, I'll also throw in a quick "Hail Mary" for all the crap to be off the truck by this time Sunday, in my new apartment, awaiting unpacking and sorting.

The next 72 hours are gonna be a lotta fun.

With all that's been going on this week, I've had little time to pause, and lament the fact my time as a Dallas resident is about to come to an end. There have been brief respites -- last weekend's trip to Austin comes to mind -- but I've honestly been too busy with work and packing to think about anything other than logistics of the impending uprooting. I haven't even taken one last drive through Addison Airport... and I'm not sure I'll have the chance to, at this rate.

The Dallas I moved to three years ago, isn't the same Dallas it is today. I'm no longer at AG, and Chickie's no longer at the Crow. No one hacks at the old job, anyway.

I'll miss my friends here. They're not the same as my friends back in ABQ.

I miss that somewhat wide-eyed optimism and uncertainty that lurked over my first few months out here. I don't think I settled into life as a Dallasite until three or four months after I got here.
I love this city. Warts and all -- and Dallas as many -- the metroplex moves at a perfect pace for me. Everything happens at 1.5 times the speed it does in Albuquerque; even traffic jams seem to go quicker here, at least to me.

I'll miss toll roads, and HOV lanes. Weird, I know.

I'll miss the feeling I got driving home from the inevitably late flights into DFW, returning from AOPA, Sun 'N Fun, or Oshkosh... moving at a quick clip down the GBT (George Bush Turnpike) at around 12:30 am, looking at the sleeping city and feeling like I was... home. Which is odd, because most wouldn't think of Dallas as the kind of place that instills that sense of familiarity.

I'll miss my Krogers down the road, and my dry cleaners right next door.

I'll miss skating trips, and Starbucks runs.

I'll miss my own private sanctuary, down the road just a bit further, called Addison Airport.

I'll miss the museums I didn't have a chance to visit, or visit enough. Ditto the Nasher Sculpture Garden, and the aquarium.

I'll miss the nighttime view of the downtown skyline, illuminated in all its glory.

I'll miss Dallas.

Rooms With A View

Sitting here at the viewing area of the Sunport, waiting to catch my flight back to Dallas... the last time I'll fly in that direction to go "home," at least for the foreseeable future. Sigh...

It's been a good trip, albeit a very quick one. I signed the lease on my apartment Sunday, and I was happy to see that it has a pretty decent view of the mountains over the building across from it. Definitely good enough to see the Sandias turn into watermelons for a few fleeting moments each evening.

With less than two weeks now to go before I head back for good, I have to admit I'm getting excited. It's a nervous energy -- equal parts "God, I want to get that over with" and "I know I'm gonna have fun unpacking and getting stuff set up."

This weekend comes a trip with Shoe, Lee and Dustin down to Austin (yep, returning there just over a month since I visited with Monk) to celebrate something of a "Rob's Last Stand in Texas." I'm not going to say there's gonna be a lot of drinking, but the hotel is within stumbling distance of Sixth Street, so that tells you something. I just can't wait to visit The Elephant Room again... looking forward to some smooth jazz.

Oh, and no flying this week... I'm going to be busy covering all the news from the 2007 Paris Air Show, and the weather looks iffy tomorrow anyway. I have one last chance next week to fit the cc's in... it may happen, it may not. Kinda leaning towards wrapping up everything in New Mexico at this point.

Well, gotta go stand in line for an hour to get a good seat when the cattle call is released... that is, after I watch a C-17 take off. And I've seen two Eclipse 500s do touch-and-goes in the past 45 minutes, too.

Signs...

If Wishes Were Horses

Eep... the move is becoming increasingly real. I leave tomorrow for a quick trip back to New Mexico, the last one before I become an official resident of the state. That will happen Sunday -- Happy Father's Day, Dad! -- when I sign the leasing agreement on my new apartment. I'm debating whether to go ahead and buy a few needed things after that... a couple new bookcases, a futon, and possibly a new TV... or wait until I move in for real.

On that front, I continue to (increasingly half-heartedly) pack away my life's possessions away, in anticipation of the actual move. I've enlisted the help of my friends Shoe and Monk to assist in packing the truck; both very graciously agreed to help, though under some protest -- as both don't want to see me leave.

God, I'm going to miss them... as I'll miss Lee, who has offered to drive me and my possessions back to New Mexico ("take it all to Laredo instead," Shoe quipped during a final get-together at the Crow on Friday). And his wife Diana, who cooked a final "Italian-style" meal Sunday in celebration of the last episode of "The Sopranos" (the spaghetti was excellent; the episode blew.)

"You're gonna miss us come football season," Diana said, good-naturedly rubbing salt in my wounds. "You're gonna miss watching the game, and you're going to miss my cooking." I already do, Diana!

I've taken to calling the move back to New Mexico a "pragmatic" move. It's a conscious decision I made, after a stark examination of the situation at hand. That's not to say I don't want to move back to New Mexico, per se; as the time grows nearer, I'm looking forward to the change of scenery (including the fact that, unlike this part of Texas, New Mexico HAS scenery) and the fact I'll be closer to my folks. There's also the flying thing, of course.

I'm not sure whether I would say I'd rather stay in Dallas; there's as much point to that as saying "I'd rather have never gotten TC." No use wishing; you play the cards you're dealt, and take it from there. The cards are telling me to return home, at least for a little while, and plot my next move.

Thankfully, I'm in a position to be able to do that.

I'm buoyed by the fact that in the past three years, friendships that started in Albuquerque continued to grow and develop. I've especially grown closer to Monk and his wife, Quinn. It's funny to think how much our friendship has evolved and grown from the time we celebrated New Year's Eve 2004 with a fondue dinner, followed by a disjointed trip to the seediest bar in Albuquerque's Northeast Heights; to the time I piggybacked my meager possessions on the back of their moving van for the trip out to Dallas; and today. That journey has seen several jovial dinners, innumerable skating missions and awesome conversation always... and I don't plan for that to change. I'm already planning my trip back to Dallas for New Year's 2008.

I'll have more ruminations later, I'm sure. For now, back to work, and back to packing.

Phew...

Confirming the suspicions of pretty much Everyone Else But Me... Monday's checkup presented no new problems, no additional complications.

Furthermore, Dr. B also gave me some much-needed reassurance on the lymph nodes that popped up on the last CT scans. First of all, both of those scans were done by a new radiologist -- "who I don't like," the good doctor has told me before -- and who seems to be firmly in the "cover my ass" category: he or she notes EVERYTHING. Including "non-pathological" lymph nodes, that do not appear to be cancer-related, and that haven't grown at all in four months.

"Everyone has lymph nodes. See this?" Dr. B asked me, pointing to his neck. "This a node I've had for years. It's no big deal."

After a handshake from Dr. B, and hugs from the nurses, they sent me on my way. My next checkup will be in Albuquerque, in August. The two-month clock has been reset. I can now officially start to look forward to getting the move out of the way, and Arlington and Oshkosh, too.

Cashing The Karma Check, Hoping The Account Isn't Overdrawn

I live my life in two-month increments -- the amount of time between cancer check-ups. If that sounds bad, consider that it used to be one-month time periods, until this past April when Dr. B put me on a two-month observation plan. The next checkup is coming up June 4th.

The weeks leading up to a clinic visit always slow down. I get little accomplished; I put my life on hold, awaiting word on whether I may continue it or not. After my last checkup -- with the pronouncement that two lymph nodes have shown up on my last two CT scans, although "they're probably nothing to worry about" -- I attacked my life with vigor. I went down to Lakeland, spent time in a helo and a new Cirrus, and looked forward to coming back to Dallas and wrapping up my sport pilot training... knowing I wouldn't have to face potentially bad news for another two months.

Then the plane went down for a week, waiting for a new aileron... and while it was only a week, the down time deflated my sails on the training front. I've flown the SportStar once since then -- 10 times around the pattern at Grand Prairie, to remind myself that, yes, I still know how to fly the plane -- and I planned to do some cross-country flying before heading back to Albuquerque to find a place to live. But I wound up cancelling those flights... because I admit, my heart just isn't in it right now.

What good is accomplishing the cross-countries -- and even taking the written test and passing my checkride -- if June 4 is going to hold bad news? And if that appointment goes well... what about the August CT scan, which will update us on those lymph nodes? Nodes don't just get bigger; they react to something.

There is also a part of me -- that started small, but has grown louder with each passing day -- that feels I used up all my good luck last year, when a similar inflammation proved to be nothing serious -- a determination made following an incredibly painful and evasive lung biopsy. God, please, I don't want to go through that again... but did I use up all my karma last year?

Yeah, I'll admit, right now I'm feeling sorry for myself. This is the other side of living with cancer, one I don't like showing the world at large. But it's a very real part of living with this disease. 

Since the good news last year, I've felt lucky, blessed, and incredibly grateful. I've also felt like I've been wearing a target on my back, waiting for The Next Time something pops up.

How could I have gone undiagnosed for seven weeks following the first signs of "something wrong" in December 2005... and incredibly, have had this voraciously fast-growing cancer confine itself to just that part of my body? That is not logical; it should have popped up somewhere else, as it does for most TC patients.

I can't shake the feeling I'm facing the day of reckoning... if not now, then someday. I hope I'm prepared if that time comes... I suspect I would be, at least, as I've already gone through it twice...

Though at this moment I'd trade almost anything for a cosmic guarantee that I'll never, ever have to face that demon again. No, on second thought... anything.