Sleeping in the woods in the middle of the desert

My house is slowly turning into an anti-arthritis cabin. What? Hold on, I’ll explain.

I grew up in Alaska as a kid — even graduated high school from there — and it was cold (I know, thank you Capt. Obvious). I remember it hitting 40 below zero, without wind, but it was a dry cold, which actually made a difference. In high school, to try to fit in with the fashion of the day, we would wear high-top tennis shoes, untied, without socks. Yep, without socks. You had to pay to play, baby. It was freezing and exhausting to try to be a cool-kid; or just a cold-kid.

Now, jump in your DeLorean (keep up) and follow me forward to 1993. I’m now living with my family in Las Vegas, Nevada. One more little trip in the DeLorean and I’m still in Las Vegas as I type this. But now, I have arthritis. I’m not complaining, really. Me and Ibuprofen are really tight, like medicinal brothers. Focus, focus (talking to myself).

And the weather? Las Vegas is a warm — HOT (Capt. Obvious is a stalker) — and dry climate. The winters are amazing; you just have to worship the air conditioning unit in the summer. And, it’s very sympathetic to having arthritis.

Let me digress a little here, there are two types of people in the world, beach people and woods people. I’m a woods people.

I love the romantic thought of sitting on a porch in the woods, reading a book and breathing in the mountain air. In fact, I’ve romanticized about owning a vacation cabin in a little higher elevation north of Las Vegas, in Southern Utah. Only two problems, everyone wants money in order to buy a cabin, and second, the winter cold is brutal on my arthritis. When the cold hits, the arthritis reminds you of every joint in your body that normally works smoothly without calling attention to it.

But hey, my dreams are still my dreams. My wife, trying to keep me grounded — and realistic — has slowly turned the interior of our stucco-clad, adobe-roofed Las Vegas home into a cabin. She started with small wooden features. Wall hangings. A bear holding an “Ellis” sign that was carved with a chainsaw out of a log. Wooden bowls. And most recently, a cabin style bedroom set that was hand-carved up in Utah. She even had one of my sons build a hardwood, kitchen table that would fit at least 14 adults around it; did I mention there are 22 of us, including grandkids?

Spoiled? Yeppers (restraining order in place against Capt. Obvious now).

Something about, “If you can’t go to the mountain, bring the mountain to you.” Or, “Improvise, adapt, and overcome.” And then there is always, “Roses are red, wood is brown, can’t go to the mountain, put cabin-type-stuff in your desert town (or something like that).” I may have pulled something stretching that…

In all, this is a thanks to my beautiful wife for bringing me the mountain and transforming our desert home. She really took our decor and home up a notch; a notch hewn in wood.