Notes From A Bear's Journey

     What are you scared of?  One is tempted to chuckle and joke about haunted houses and ghosts and dark alleys when asked that question.  But being lost on a remote trail or broken down on a deserted road can bring about entirely new fears...being injured and alone or of not finding your way out; perhaps even the thought of possibly dying.   Whether it's confronting tight spaces, heights, getting up on stage, spiders, deep water, or any of a number of other things, the question of what it is that frightens you could go on and on.  For me it is the thought of deep ocean water, or any body of unknown water.  I can admire it to no end: from a cliff, from a ship's railing, from a bridge or pier, sometimes even swimming in it; but the thought of diving freely into it and feeling carefree and at peace is indeed just that, a distant almost never-to-be-explored thought.        Not so for Roger Deakin who wrote:  The uncomfortable pebble beach shelves steeply, and I was glad to subsid

    Let me start by saying that I am not a cook, at least not a natural cook who is filled with passion and is naturally creative in the kitchen.  Okay, I'm somewhat competent on the grill and can make a pretty decent poached egg, complete with runny yolk that ooze over a nice piece of buttered toast.  And I even make a surprisingly good vegetarian lasagna (gasp).  But to be thinking up dishes such as roasted beets with goat cheese or making home-made mozzarella (supposedly rather simple)...forget it.  Which is why I recognize the efforts of chefs overall, from high-end gourmet chefs with Michelin stars to short order breakfast cooks* who can pound out dozens of orders at a steady pace for hours, from over-easy eggs side-by-side with chicken fried steaks and an order of waffles.  How in the heck do they manage to keep everything in order for tables 4 through 15 when everyone is wanting something different?           These thoughts came about because for some reason I've been go

     Dang if it didn't happen again; my right arm got whacked and I'm now temporarily disabled, my hand swollen to double its size and my movement virtually nil.  Now don't think I'm whining or feeling sorry for myself but if there's one thing this accident has made me realize is that I take a lot for granted when it comes to the other half of me, or my "other" arm.  Right now (day 4) I still can't lift, grab or hold any weight with my arm, my hand quick to send out sharp nerve pain "reminders" when I do so.  And with my hand now temporarily (I hope) out of commission, "simple" tasks such as pulling up a zipper take about a minute (I have to lean into a cabinet or something to "hold down" the bottom part of my shorts while I pull up the zipper); I've also discovered that getting those "child-proof" caps off of bottles is far too difficult for one hand (normal "capped" bottles I can press against a c