A somewhat late 2021 wrap-up

Happy New Year and welcome to 2022! 

My brain (and body) have been somewhat occupied for the last several months, so I know I've missed out on posts that may have normally been written, but because I feel a need to brain dump 2021 for my own sanity, I thought writing a summary might be helpful for me to let it all go. Is this what I should be doing right this moment? Absolutely not, but sometimes sanity has to come before other matters.

January got off to a beautiful start in Colorado. This photo above was on one of our daily dog walks only a few days into 2021, and I was feeling so very grateful to live in a beautiful place. I was also continuing my near-daily rides that I'd taken on as a coping mechanism during the pandemic. We rode on the weekends, too, and were shocked at how little snow we were getting.

This photo was taken the last day of January on an unseasonably dry winter ride we had taken into Thornton, Broomfield, Superior, and other southern-to-us areas.

In February, I was able to get my first-round Covid vaccination shot because I was employed with the school district as a substitute teacher and they desperately wanted to get us all back in the classroom. I had agreed to come back as soon as I was fully through that process, so was excited to be able to get vaccinated relatively early, though I felt bad in some sense because I wished I could've given it to Sam who was going into the office daily. 

We were still able to ride quite a bit too because, though cold, we really hadn't received a ton of snow.

By mid-March I'd received my second round vaccination and had been through my post-shot two-week period, so I was ready to go back to subbing in classrooms. My first day back was so exciting that I actually took a selfie to commemorate the day. Being able to do something "normal" that wasn't exercise, riding a bike or walking a dog was very exciting!

We also took a tandem ride one weekend that resulted in a weird tire bulge in our usually-tough Schwalbe tires.

Afterward, several others noted that they had experienced or had seen similar photos of others who don Schwalbe touring tires that had similar issues. We crossed our fingers that this was a one-time weird moment and put a new tire on the tandem.

Right after this ride, we also received a pretty decent helping of snow. Certainly, not uncommon in Colorado to get a large snow storm, but when our brains were ready for spring to start, having this much snow come in at a moment when spring was days away was not what we wanted to see out the window in the morning.

The good about March was that I was starting to find something resembling normal again. I was working on art again, back to substituting in the classroom, and everything else we'd been doing during the pandemic seemed to still be happening as well, so I was a happy lady.

By April, things took a bit of a turn. The first downer was that we knew our Labrador was getting to a point that we were going to have to make some decisions. I really, really didn't want to accept this as I'd watch her napping and had hope that she would continue to be the fighter we knew she was. But, her liver was failing, she was completely blind, and she just didn't have the life she once did.

While we put those thoughts to the back of our minds, we continued to ride as much as we could, experiencing some really dry (though often windy) spring days. One of our favorites was to visit this bikeway, above, that runs parallel to Highway 36 into/out of Boulder/Superior/Louisville/Westminster.

In late April, we discovered that we had a broken, clay sewer line at the house and that we'd need to have it replaced. It was (in my mind) an insane cost for something that we have to have (and that is just a pipe), but I know that there were a lot of people involved and that everyone needs a paycheck, so we took it on the chin and moved forward.

The next day, Sam found out that he was being offered a job in Bend, Oregon, and a lot of discussion happened in a very short amount of time. Within a week, as we started into May, our house was up for sale and Sam was making plans to go to Oregon to start his new job while the dogs and I stayed behind to get packed and take care of business in Colorado.

Strangely, I was very focused (an unusual trait for me). I knew what needed to be done and was doing my best to stay on task. Still lingering through was the thought of our Lab-girl. There were many, many discussions about how we would transition her to a new place, particularly as she was completely blind, but also taking into account her other ailments and age. We had a plan in place, but as we continued to observe her daily actions, we knew what she was telling us and as gut-wrenching and heart-breaking as it was, we knew we were going to have to say goodbye to our companion of just shy of 15 years. 

A photo taken from my Studio window of B-dog as she sat on the back flagstone.

As much as we knew that it was the right decision, I will likely always carry guilt about this choice made for her. Our Golden-girl wasn't really sure how to behave after the fact and she seemed a little forlorn (or maybe it was my projection on to her), but it was sad to watch her try to adapt to a new life without her housemate.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunate for my mental state), I didn't have much time to linger on these thoughts as we had a lot to get done. I decided to have one last open-studio/sale outdoors in late May with a friend who makes jewelry, and tried to sell off as much of what I had as possible to make packing up the studio a little less painful.  

Sam was also ready to head out for his time alone in Oregon, and he packed up our old camper-trailer and headed out west to begin a bit of new life and a new job. Meanwhile, B-dog and I went to work with more packing, giving things away, and donating as much as we could so that we'd be prepared for the move after the house sale closed. 

By June, we were nearly ready for the move and were waiting for Sam's return to put all of our belongings into shipping pods that would be stored until we found a new place to live. I was oddly calm, despite having a lot to do and knowing that we were leaving the state we'd called home for nearly two decades. My presumption was that this was a good sign and that it was time to find a new place.

Having always been a bit of a wanderer, it was starting to feel as though maybe we'd over-stayed our welcome, though there was a part of me that knew I was going to miss Colorado.

As mid-June came, we were ready for all of us to make the move to Oregon, so our house items and all but a few belongings were sent off to be stored until we were ready as we headed to our new area.

We lived in our camper trailer, moving from campsite to campsite every week or so because there, as we soon discovered, weren't any places for us to set up long-term. Our camper doesn't have a bathroom and really was meant more for bike-race type camping trips, so the space isn't vast by any means, but we were figuring out how to deal with the small space and limited "stuff" until we could secure a new home.

That would also be more of a challenge than we anticipated, despite our immediate start upon arrival. Even finding an apartment to rent was impossible, as we hadn't anticipated the number of people who arrive to this central Oregon city in the summer months (and already had plans for housing - unlike us). Our agent was great though and showed us absolutely everything we wanted to see, no matter where it took us.

Throughout June and July B-dog and I did a LOT of walking. We walk every day in normal circumstances, but this was next-level walking during which we explored anything and everything we could find. Although I didn't record most days, we were walking a good 12-14 miles every week day. 

The good thing for miss B is that the river is just about everywhere we'd go, so she'd always get to go for a swim and cool off at some point (often several times). 

Initially, we looked for homes daily and made an offer on a place that was a complete wreck. Honestly, it was close to uninhabitable. It had been rented for several decades prior and not well-cared-for, and we were pretty convinced our agent thought we were insane to be purchasing the property. I think we questioned our sanity a bit as well, especially because the house had been listed as a development property, with the seller believing the house was destined for demolition. But, near the end of August, after a sketchy escrow period and a near-loss of the house right at the end, we ended up getting precisely what we'd hoped to avoid: a giant project. 

But, this is who we are - people who seem to (at least somewhat) enjoy taking on something no one else wants and making it into something that is hopefully better than it started when we found it. 

*Photo credit to Sam       

A visit to the local Lava Lands hiking area

The summer months (especially July and August) brought a lot of smoke, as it did to most of the western US. The skies often looked as they would on a cloudy day, except that it was smoke. If we hadn't been wearing masks because of the pandemic, we likely would've been anyway because of the difficulty breathing.

The smoke cleared earlier here than it has been the last couple of summers in Colorado though, and by late August/early September, most days were smoke-light or smoke-free, which was a welcomed change. 

By late August, we had closed on the house and were into our renovations. We started from day one and haven't stopped since that time, other than for very brief moments. Sam goes to work, while I work on the house and then Sam returns home and does the things that require his touch/assistance.

A couple of rooms as they went through their changes. They both still had work to be done at the point of these photos, but we were grateful to start being able to get to somewhat live in the house at this point in late September.

It's hard to describe all that has gone into these rooms (especially the unseen) without a lot of detail, but things were much worse than were visible on the surface. We are so grateful to have the opportunity to save something destined for demolition though!

We also attempted to get back to riding somewhat regularly, which was more of a struggle than we anticipated. I think it's easy to get upset with ourselves when we can't manage to get all of the things completed that we hope, but sometimes have to remind ourselves that there are only so many hours in a day/week and something has to give sometimes when there are too many things to get done. 

Then, the weather turned earlier than we expected and that limited our riding time as well. Plus, we were getting pressure from friends/family who want to come and visit, so we were trying our very best to get as much work done as we could as quickly as possible. Ultimately, we had to tell everyone to just give us a bit of a break as there are only two of us doing the work and we can only accomplish so much. 

By October, leaves were changing and fall skies were a regular occurrence. We had close to renovated four of the rooms in the house as well. However, at this point, our riding was even more limited. Sam was riding to work, but my time was pretty much limited to our once per weekend ride on the tandem. 

When November rolled around, I started to truly realize that we actually live in another state and all of the things I had emotionally pushed down, not wanting to deal with (or lacking the time to deal with), started to come up. I missed my dog that I felt I had killed because we were moving (even though that really was not at all the case), I missed my Colorado friends and home -- not the house so much, but just knowing that the things I was so used to being near were no longer there, and I wanted desperately to have a ride in my old stomping grounds. I started to understand just how much I had taken for granted all that was at my fingertips, and just how much it all really meant to me. 

Fortunately, I had planned a trip back to Colorado for a couple of days in December to help out a friend and to hopefully clear out some of the emotion I just couldn't quite let go. Getting to walk my old home area was so wonderful and getting to see some friendly faces was the absolute best. I only wish I could've seen more people while there and had the opportunity to take my bicycle with me to ride. I realized that even when I don't get to see friends regularly, it's nice to know they are around and it really stinks to be in a new place with no familiar faces. 

When I returned home, I received notification from the state of Colorado that I had been exposed to someone who tested positive for Covid through the state notification app that I still had active on my phone. I was not pleased as I have done my best to stay away from people for the last two years unless outdoors, and, of course, the one time I went somewhere since this started, I had potentially exposed not only myself but Sam and those he works with (as the notification came a few days after my return) to testing positive. I had been masked while there, but it just frustrated me that this is still something that requires so much caution. Because of the date of exposure, I knew that it had to be either at the airport or on the airplane, but there wasn't anything I could do except to quarantine and get a test to see if I had been infected.

Thankfully, I tested negative (as did Sam), but it was a good reminder that we are not through any of this mess. The nice thing, I suppose, is that when home I have very little exposure to other humans.

December snow days in central Oregon.

I know that in the coming weeks/months, I have to start doing some things outside of fixing the house because I will never meet new people when my days revolve around dog walks, big-box home improvement stores, and working in the house, but there is still the part of me that has a hard time believing that Oregon is home. It's a lovely place (as I know I've stated), but it just doesn't feel like home - at least yet. Maybe it will in time, but that remains to be seen. 

Mileage-wise, riding has taken a severe plummet in 2021. I ended 2020 with 9,000 miles of riding, but 2021 dropped significantly to just over 4,600 (and most of that took place before summer hit). Miles on foot didn't take the same drop, but that was likely due to the reality that B-dog and I were attached at the hip for several months, which allowed us to get a lot of steps in throughout summer, most of which weren't recorded so I'll never truly know how many miles we covered.

This year ahead still holds quite a few question marks. I don't currently have a work space (nor have I been able to find a place locally that sells the supplies I need), I haven't gone back to substitute teaching here in Oregon, and there are still a lot of things to accomplish in regard to our project house. There are also some questions about where things will go with Sam's job. Truthfully, I don't mind questions though - who wants to have all the answers - but I'm curious to see where 2022 takes us. 

I hope that 2021 was kind to you, or as good as a pandemic year can be, and that you were able to fulfill goals and experience new things. Please feel free to share your thoughts/experiences from 2021 as well. Happy New Year to all!!