Living in Colorado is an adventure. Living in my head is an adventure. Don't count on a sustained train of thought or unified theme. We live at 7,600 feet above sea level, and strive to make every day living an adventure.
We were challenged. I was challenged by Amy Hepper, Allan Kucab, Tim Allen and Danielle Allen. Eric was challenged by Tim Allen, Danielle Allen, and Matt Barcalow.
So we did the challenge, out at Painted Mine, which is some crazy geologic formations about 45 minutes east of where we live. We will also be donating $100 to ASL research via www.alsa.org (NOT alsa.com, as I mentioned in my video... opps!)
I think its also important to know about ALS. ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) is a degenerative disease that particularly impacts the neurons in the brain and spinal cord. You start to lose motor function, and there is no cure. It is almost universally fatal. The scariest part? A full 90% of people who are diagnosed with ALS have no family history of the disease. They don't know why people get it, and best prognosis is a life expectancy of 5 years post-diagnosis.
This, like many other illness (AIDS, MS, cancer, etc.) have great potential, through research, to be conquered. We can't rely on governments to fund that research - it takes understanding by the general public and a passion to help. If you aren't interested in donating to ALS, that's ok. Find something to get passionate about, and get involved. Dump a bucket on your head. Jump in a lake. Mentor a kid.
Just DO SOMETHING. Life's to short not to care.
Oh yea.. and Tracie Hepper, John Sellers, and Rebekah Tiefenbach Sellers. I nominate YOU! You have 24 hours...
Technically, when you are conceived, you get half your genes from your mother and half your genes from your father. However, anyone who knows my family knows that I definitely favor the Popovich side, my mom's family.
Including the penchant for Popovich women to have teeny, tiny bladders.
Most of the time, when Eric's gone, nothing terribly exciting happens. Bathrooms get cleaned, dusting happens, the vacuum comes out, and, if I'm feeling really wild, I may reorganize a closet so that Eric's shirts are in straight, ROYGBIV lines by type (short sleeve, long sleeve, button up, 3/4 zip). I know, wild right?
However, very occassionally, I do other stuff.
Like have the alarm go off at 2:30 in the morning, on purpose.
Last night, I wrote about the death of Robin Williams, likely from suicide. Social media is flooded with tributes to Robin Williams, prayers for his family, remembrances of a remarkable career and talent, and not a few unkind remarks about the cause of his death from hurting people who don't understand the pervasive nature of depression and haven't heard the siren song whose lyrics so convincingly say "The only way out of this is to end it. You will never feel better and you are a burden on everyone you care about." However, one thing hasn't bubbled to the surface that I think is important to note.
Robin Williams died today. He was 63. By most accounts, it appears that there is very little doubt that he committed suicide.
Robin Williams was one of my favorite actors. I feel so sad that he chose to take his life. So incredibly sad, in a way that the passing of very few celebrities has made me feel.
Suicide is a real option for many people. Having worked in mental health for more than a decade, I've talked with many, many people who have contemplated, or attempted suicide. There are many people who glibbly state that suicide is "selfish." That "things are never that bad."
So, as Eric will readily share with you, I have a few OCD traits. Like, perhaps, more than a few. I need to have things neat and clean. I hate dust (which is an issue, living in Colorado, where it's dry and the wind blows incessantly.) I need things to be neat, clean, and if a picture is crooked, no matter where I am, I have to straighten it, even if that place is the doctor's office. Or work. Or the grocery store.
Another Saturday, another 5am wake up call. I had decided earlier in the week that, despite the fact I had an 11am appointment up in Denver to have my running stride analyzed, that I would climb the Incline.
4:30am. That was the time the alarm went off. Not that I heard it. I was dead to the world, and Eric got up and showered (I have a policy about not showering before hiking - what's the point?) and somewhere in there, I recognized that there was movement in the bedroom and bathroom, and got myself to a semi-conscious state. We were out of the house by 5:05am, well, maybe 5:15, but certainly no later.