writing my way through cancer

It's 3:45 in the morning. I am awake.

I had a mammogram on October 15th and then an ultrasound on October 26th. Then a biopsy on November 1st. Today a nurse called to tell me I have invasive ductal carcinoma.

There's something that will fuck up your day.

Carcinoma. What the fuck.

I wrote a few notes, looked up from my notepad, asked Regis to take me to Patrick's to start the wine therapy.

As we talked, I said I would write my way through this and I will. It's 3:30 am and here I sit, glass of wine at my side, numb from the wine and numb from the news.

There is no history of breast cancer in my family. I thought I was immune. I have regular mammograms. I thought I was immune.

I read this several times.

What the fuck. Mastectomy? Radiation? Chemotherapy? This is my 60th year?

I wanted to stop saying shit so much in my blog posts and instead I have progressed to saying fuck. Multiple times.

I am going to wallow in misery for a few days then I will buck up and carry on with my life.

For this moment, I am miserable. How can this be?

My first thought was that I am not so attached to my breasts. They can both go if it will protect me from the other bad shit. The chemo and the radiation.

I am not a sick person. I rarely get colds. What the fuck. How can I have this crap? Cancer. I have to put my head down on my desk for a minute to weep...long and deep sobs.

I appreciate my cousin's email with the subject heading s.o.b. That's it. Son of a bitch.

My brain is banging from one side of my head to the other. One minute I am feeling optimistic. I can beat this if I buy enough pink stuff. The next minute I am picturing my own funeral.

I don't want to talk to anyone about this right now because that will make it real. I don't want a support group or counseling. I appreciate your concern but I can't call you back. I can only write here.

I know this can be fixed. Maybe. But I have a dear friend who died from breast cancer. What the fuck.

impending sense of doom

One night, several years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible pain between my shoulder blades. I got out of bed to check my symptoms on the internet, as any modern woman would do, and found that pain between the shoulder blades, and an impending sense of doom, are common symptoms of heart attack in females. Whoa. I didn't have an impending sense of doom until I read that. I had Regis get out of bed and take me to the ER. Turns out I had a bad case of heart burn.

I get that impending sense of doom sometimes and I don't know if it's a true feeling about the future or just a hidden anxiety poking its head out of the closet. Dusting itself off, turning on its faint light, and stalking me in the predawn hours. When I have insomnia, I'm never sure if I am awake because I'm anxious or if I'm anxious because I'm awake. Usually the latter. What else are you going to do at 2 am except watch the gray-faced men march around the bed?

Regis has had trouble sleeping lately. We know this is a side effect of his knee replacement surgery so we aren't too concerned but it gets tiresome. He moves from the bed to the couch several times throughout the night. I get up at 4:30 to sit quietly in front of the fireplace and read. He comes out to sleep on the couch and I move so the lights don't disturb him. We're like two cats slouching around the darkened house.

I can hear him out there now so I know he still isn't comfortable.

Yesterday, I packed up all the Halloween decorations and set out some Thanksgiving and fall things. I love holidays. Not only did I pack up the Halloween stuff but I hauled the three tubs to the basement and put them back where they belong. A miracle. My tendency is to let them sit in a stack by the back door for weeks. Hurray for me.

I took Gus out to the back yard about 5 this morning and there is a misty rain with a heavy cloud cover. Oh, lovely. A day like they have on the moops...perfect for the impending sense of doom.

saving time

I can't figure out how the time change saves anything. I can't even figure out if it just ended or started. Seems like we should find a way to save some daylight in the winter but if there are only 8 hours available, I don't think it matters what you do with the clock.

Some people think they get an extra hour of sleep but for me, it only means that I wake up at 3 am instead of 4 am. I woke up early yesterday, was tired early so I went to bed, and woke up at 9:30 thinking it must be morning. What the hell.

I'm not a fan of the short days of November and December. I only survive with strings of party lights, lots of candles, and extra Vitamin D. I'm trying to get outside a little bit each day to absorb what little light there is. I'd like to get Gus to wear a string of lights like this dog, but I'm not hopeful that will work.

Regis and I went to Pappageorge for dinner last night. He had the London broil and I had scallops. Both were quite delicious. We decided we were celebrating, in spite of all the bad news, that we are both healthy enough to rake leaves and enjoy a cold beer at the end of it. Be sure to read the poem Gratitude in one of my recent posts.

I was hat shopping this morning. I have to return a pair of boots so I decided with the money I'm saving I'll buy a couple hats. Hats can be very expensive...these are not. I realize the economics of this is not something they would practice on Wall Street...well, then again, maybe they would.

We're going to the Pulse this morning, then doing our Sunday night dinner and tv with Emily. It's gotten to be a tradition and is something we look forward to at the end of the weekend.

I meant to take a picture of all the leaves we raked up yesterday. The city is coming around to pick them up tomorrow and I always wait until the last minute, thinking some of them would blow away. I think more blew in than out as a lot of those leaves were not from my trees. Anyway, it's a nice pile the whole length of our lot and gives me some yard cred with the neighbors. We're sorely lacking in that department as we don't water, fertilize, trim, or blow. And we don't mow nearly as often as some. I tell them wee're making oxygen in our yard.

Off to Sunday. Won't someone come and do the dishes I have allowed to pile up disgustingly?

gratitude

I was raking leaves...then came in to read an email from our friend, Bob, about his wife Marilyn who just had heart surgery on Wednesday. They are both doing well and that is wonderful news in a week of mostly bad news!

The two things, raking and Bob's email, reminded me to be grateful...and that reminded me of this poem. I have it posted on the sidebar but I'm going to paste it here again. If you're reading this, find someone to read this poem aloud to. Or go to your favorite coffee shop and read it aloud to yourself. Maybe somebody will be listening.

Gratitude

by Barbara Crooker 

This week, the news of the world is bleak, another war

grinding on, and all these friends down with cancer,

or worse, a little something long term that they won’t die of

for twenty or thirty miserable years—

And here I live in a house of weathered brick, where a man

with silver hair still thinks I’m beautiful. How many times

have I forgotten to give thanks? The late day sun shines

through the pink wisteria with its green and white leaves

as if it were stained glass, there’s an old cherry tree

that one lucky Sunday bloomed with a rainbow:

cardinals, orioles, goldfinches, blue jays, indigo buntings,

and my garden has tiny lettuces just coming up,

so perfect they could make you cry: Green Towers,

Red Sails, Oak Leaf. For this is May, and the whole world

sings, gleams, as if it were basted in butter, and the air’s

sweet enough to send a diabetic into shock—

And at least today, all the parts of my body are working,

the sky’s clear as a china bowl, leaves murmur their leafy chatter,

finches percolate along. I’m doodling around this page,

know sorrow’s somewhere beyond the horizon, but still, I’m riffing

on the warm air, the wingbeats of my lungs that can take this all in,

flush the heart’s red peony, then send it back without effort or thought.

And the trees breathe in what we exhale, clap their green hands

in gratitude, bend to the sky.

From Line Dance (Word Press, 2008).

one thing then another continues

I always think about how much to share here. I wouldn't want to read a long litany of woes on a blog but sometimes things happen that take over my thinking and it's not possible to go on unless I write them down.

It's been a long season of bad shit, some way worse than others. I think one thing is bad, then another comes along to change my definition of bad shit.

Thursday, my niece Cybil and her family lost their sweet, two-month old baby to SIDS. It's been an awful trauma for my family. This morning, I ordered flowers for a baby's funeral. Something seemed wrong about that.

I had a breast biopsy on Friday. There was a major CF with the imaging clinic again and when I got to my appointment he said he couldn't do the biopsy because they hadn't sent the mammogram and the ultrasound. Good grief. He could tell I was about at the end of my rope, so he called and made some special arrangements so I could get it done that day. Bless his heart. Just when you get cynical and cranky, someone does a kind thing and you feel better about humanity.

Not the first time this surgeon has done something nice for me. He was scheduled to do an endoscopy for me but when I got to the hospital I found out it was someone else. My doctor had been awake doing surgery all night and wouldn't be able to come in for my thing. I started weeping. They must have called him because thirty minutes later, he showed up. What a nice guy.

Our friend, Marilyn, is recovering from heart surgery. They knew it was coming but it's still disconcerting to have surgery on your heart. Miracles of medicine...she will be going home on Monday. I wish her well as she continues to heal.

Regis is sleeping on the couch this morning. He has had more muscle pain with this surgery and seems to be more tired. We think it's his low iron so I bought Total cereal yesterday. We're heard about it and read several places that it can do the trick. This is not a scientific study but we will keep you informed as results come in.

The good news is that today, we have no plans. No plans to do anything or go anywhere so whatever we do will be a nice surprise. I might take Gus for a walk. I might rake some leaves. I might put away the Halloween stuff and move on to election night decorating. Red, white, and blue. Thanks, Mom!

I must go have a latte this morning. I have been doing the Facebook posts for River Rock and all the luscious photos of lattes make me thirsty. I'll miss sitting outside like I did this summer. One of my favorite things...sitting on Minnesota Avenue with a blueberry tart and a latte.

My goal for the week is to say shit less often. Or maybe my goal should be to have less bad shit happen. Agree?

if it ain't one thing, it's another

I should be writing about the Halloween Fun Run, which was fun, but my photos are in the other room so I'm going to forego that topic for now.

Many reasons not to watch the news, or television for that matter. It's nice this year, not to be subjected to constant political ads, since we ripped our cable out after the last election. Not literally, but it went missing. Do people really make up their minds based on that drivel? Someone posted a link to an awful crime and punishment story on Facebook and I had to read it. Very, very sad. No reason I had to know about that.

Now, I'm reading about Hurricane Sandy. I would have been long ago gone from that path. What the hell. An 11 foot wall of water? It sounds like one of those apocalypse movies and you know what a fan I am of those.

I was driving to Mankato the other day on 169. I happened to be by the regional treatment center where the speed limit is 45. I was going 45 mph when a woman came barreling up behind me, got right on my bumper, then passed me giving me the finger as she went. What the hell. It was that important to her to get where she was going a few minutes earlier? How uncivilized. I stared straight ahead but Regis, Philly driver that he is, responded in kind.

Regis turned 60 in July and I'm turning 60 on Wednesday. Life in the months before 60 has been fraught with peril for both of us. Some of it could be funny, I think, depending on your view of things and we usually take a dark comedic view which helps us get through the bullshit.

Since last May, we have been diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, bladder cancer, cataracts, osteoporosis, breast cancer, and we've had two knees replaced. It's not so important who got what...it's a medical shit storm. Someone from the insurance company is going to come out and shoot us.

We're managing quite well and hope by the end of the year, the worst of it will be behind us. (It could be quite a Christmas letter. Haha! Not, really. Don't be afraid to open it when it comes.) Seriously, all in all, things are good. Regis fairly skipped down the front steps the other day and I ran a 5k on Saturday. Not fast, mind you, but faster than the folks on the couch.

Bob and Marilyn, we'll be thinking about you both on Wednesday.

I found the pictures so here's the scoop on the Fun Run.

I'm an artificial knee.

Every time I get one of these pictures taken, I'm walking. Hmmm... 

Joanne and I have done the Halloween Fun Run together for four years. The first year, during the reconstruction of 169, was the worst because we were on the hill and the wind was fierce. This year was perfect, crisp and cool, no wind. There were 1,400 people registered. The Fun Run Facebook page has tons of pictures. Some of the costumes were great! The headless boy was very creepy. I didn't win any prizes but I got a lot of laughs.

It will be a busy week. PT three times, working out at the Pulse, working at River Rock, party at the Paw on Tuesday night (I'm a costume judge, believe that or not!), and my birthday on Wednesday. It will be the party what started out as dancin' around!

soggy afternoon and everybody gots the blues

We are not complaining about the rain. At all. It's the first time we've had a decent rain in months.

We are only complaining about the gloom that seems to have descended on everyone. We are hunkered down, sighing heavily, speaking in hushed tones. Our spirits have been hung out to dry...in the rain. Woe is us.

We are lacking in gumption. Even to do the simple things like the dishes and picking up of stuff. Damp jackets hang limply from the backs of chairs. Junk mail is piled on the table, probably hiding today's to-do list. Even the dog is without ambition.

A rational and thinking person would turn on the radio and make some cookies or invite a friend over for a glass of wine. But who can think rationally in the blue funk of this day? So, here we sit, lamps unlit, dinner not made, quiet in every corner.

I'm going to grab the reins and drive this horse down a different road. Radio will be turned on and jazzy music will be heard. Something will be cooked. Candles will be lit and old friends will be called.

Ta da!

restless night and sleepy morning

We were up and down all night, first one then the other. Bed, couch, chair. Even the dog couldn't settle down. Must have been one of those nights my doctor used to describe as "forces in the universe at work".

Regis has therapy at 8 so we're up and moving in the right direction. All is well when that's true.

We're expecting rain today which is a welcome weather event. It hasn't rained enough all summer to even get the ground completely wet. Tomorrow will be colder.

There must have been a football game somewhere last night. I heard the muffled voice of an announcer and the cheers of a crowd. It was kind of a sweet sound for a fall night but the distant noise is as far as my interest goes. As for who and what sport and the final score, I don't care.

I went to a coffee training at work last night. I walked downtown in my new boots... a mistake. They're very comfortable but not for long distances and I almost wore holes in my toes. The coffee training is fascinating because the art and science of coffee, which these folks know...is complex. They did explain why some coffee tastes good and some tastes like cigar ash. Small growers, attention to detail, hand-picking and sorting, careful processing. They are turning me into a coffee snob.

Usually when we pick up prescriptions, we use the drive-up at Walgreen's. Yesterday, I went into the store. Fifty dollars later, I had a sack of unnecessary junk. I rationalized that it was Halloween stuff for the little kids but the truth is, it's probably not anything they want either.

Regis has been having some vivid dreams which we attribute to Percoset. The other night his dream was about the ice bag belonging to the dowager countess but since someone had taken that one, we had to use the lesser ice bag of the footman. Last night he had a dream that our friend Emily had rented out our couch to Eli and the recliner to Dave so Regis had no place to go in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

Chauffeur duty calls.

this getting old shit is for the birds

I just wrote a paragraph about our continuing medical woes and then I promptly deleted it. I have vowed not to talk about medical stuff so remind me if I go off on a tangent about it. Enough already.

I'm warming up my writing brain to do about four blog posts for River Rock this afternoon. They are in varying stages of completion in a notebook written in pencil and on my computer. I write spasmodically, if that's the word for it. I rarely write in long-hand anymore and can hardly compose an address unless I'm at the keyboard. Writing on cards can be a challenge.

I looked at the marathon coverage in the paper this morning and had a brief moment of regret for not committing to that until I read about the folks who were vomiting and in need of IVs by the end. Nah. I don't think so. As I have said before, my right brain, the side that avoids pain and seeks pleasure is too well-developed. My mantra usually goes something like this, "If I walk for a while, I will feel better and I won't break any bones. This will be over soon. What in the hell made me think this would be fun?"

We had a very busy day yesterday. I picked Elliot up in the morning, Ella and Alex came for lunch, Emily took Gus to the park then came back for pizza and we watched Downton Abbey. A fun Sunday!

One more cup of coffee, one more paragraph...then I have to hit it.

I'm reading Major Pettigrew's Last Stand. I can't remember who recommended it to me but I like it. It's a love story about an English man and a Pakistani woman. Sort of a gentle tea and crumpets story which I don't mind as I'm not much for murder and mayhem in my reading material.

My new boots just came via UPS and that means Zappos is a modern miracle. I order boots on Saturday afternoon and they are delivered to me by Monday. Ah, the smell of new leather.

Here I go.

feelin' pretty cocky so early in the morning

I just reread yesterday's post. I was being optimistic when I wrote it, apparently. The truth of it is that we spent the day trudging slowly from task to task and from couch to recliner. I did the dishes, made two meals, and got my Halloween Fun Run costume ready but that's about it. My brain was resting a good part of the day.

Today will be different. I'm picking Elliot up at 9:30 and Ella and Alex are coming about 10 o'clock to play. There will not be much resting today, believe me.

The sky was clear when I was out with Gus at 6 but now it looks cloudy again. I don't mind...I still love these fall days. Our birch tree is raining yellow leaves, slowly slowly slowly. It's beautiful.

Regis is still sleeping, Gus is taking his first nap of the day, and I am going to the kitchen to make coffee. There you go.

saturday in slow motion

Regis and I are slowly getting our wheels back on the tracks. We woke up this morning at 4, got up and drank coffee in the dark, then went back to sleep for an hour. It's a strange kind of timeless feeling.

The good news is that my sleeping patterns have been better knock on wood. No long periods of wakefulness for three days.

I think we're going to take Gus to the dog park for a while this morning. Regis is itching to get out and so is Gus. I can drive and Regis can park it on a bench. His butt...not the car.

I just ordered myself a new pair of boots. I have been so frugal with clothes lately that I decided I could splurge. Yesterday I washed my three favorite sweaters from the thrift and consignment stores. Two of them should have been hand washed but I'm not a believer in that monkey business so I tossed them in the washer on the delicate cycle.

One had red wine stains on the front from the time I apparently had suffered an unfortunate head-on collision with a glass of wine. It happens. I found a tip online: Mix a teaspoon of dish soap with a cup (about) of hydrogen peroxide. Squirt it on the stain. Ha! Amazing! I guess this works on carpet and upholstery stains, too, so if you're a red wine drinker, tuck this information in your memory bank.

Kind of a western look, right? I bet I can kick some serious ass in these boots.

Back to caring for the patient who is a rock star. He is showered, dressed, and sitting in his chair. No long periods of convalescence for this cat. He's on the move. Staples come out Wednesday and he'd like to be off the Percoset as soon as possible.

end o' the week

It's Friday finally...or already...depending on a couple of things. Surgery was a roaring success so we have that out of the way, just physical therapy for the next month.

The hospital has been a good experience except for the food. I won't say where Regis had his surgery because you know my paranoia about google searches. The hospital gets it's patient food from a nursing home. It's an abomination that old people and sick people and folks recovering from surgery (who ought to have the very best nutrition) have to eat that highly processed tasteless food. Fake butter. Fake coffee creamer. English muffins that look like they came with a play kitchen set. If I ever have to spend time in the hospital, please bring food.

Regis sent me a dream story by text sometime in the middle of the night. He was sleeping in the recliner in his room and woke to hear some noise in the hall. In his Percocet-induced slumber, he thought he was in a motel room but realized I was not there. A while later, he woke and saw me writing on the melamine board so he croaks out, "Where the f*#* have you been?" and of course, it is the sweet and pretty, twenty-something nurse who is writing on the board, not me. I hope she has a sense of humor.

Gus and I have slept well the past two nights, only waking once. He was very agitated the first day of Regis's absence but seems to have adjusted now. Yesterday, Emily took him to the dog park to play with his dog pals and Young Reg and Amber took him for a walk and over to their house to play with their cats. He had a full day.

Two pictures from my mostly pathetic garden this summer. I'm still making the transition to shade plants since any sun I used to have has been usurped by the trees. I'm not much for watering so it was simply a matter of survival of the fittest. A man I know in town who is a wonderful gardener came into River Rock yesterday. I'm embarrassed to talk gardens with him. He has rotating plants so his garden is blooming all summer. It's very artistically arranged and he takes meticulous care of it. My garden is random and wild, like me. Ha!

spending my time

This is how I like to spend my time. Sitting, drinking coffee, eating something little and tasty like a blueberry tart, riding my bike, watching traffic.

This will not be how I spend my time this week. This week my calendar is full. I don't even like to look at it now and there are some things I haven't written down. I wonder how I had time to work full time and keep up with my life before I retired. There must have been a lot of things I didn't do...or maybe I had more gumption.

We had such a nice Sunday yesterday. I put out the Halloween decorations (of which there are a ton), cleaned up the house a bit, bought a take and bake pizza, and our friend, Emily came over for dinner and a movie. Such a nice way to end the weekend and begin a busy week.

I slept fitfully last night. Awake until almost midnight, awake several times over the next few hours, awake at 5 am. I have decided to just put it out of my mind. There doesn't seem to be any fixing it and you can't really catch up on sleep so I'll just muddle along. Maybe my worry about not sleeping is contributing to my insomnia. Bummer.

Spending time. It's important how I decide to spend my time. Everybody gets a limited amount of time and I don't want to spend a lot of my allotment vacuuming spider webs in the basement or obsessing about the state of my lawn. That's trivial shit. I want to spend my time standing in the yard looking at the stars in the morning or drinking coffee and pondering my existence. Ha! 

Hey, that guy jumped out of the balloon and his eyes didn't explode. Hurray! Crazy stuff people do.

Regis had a dream the other night that involved Marlys, Vern, and their daughter Hermione. Where does he get this stuff? If he had been writing it down all along, we'd have the material for a book. A very strange book, but a book.

On to Monday. The week will be busy but I'll check in because this is where I collect my brain cells. I'll check in with a cup of coffee, a little bite to eat, and an open curtain so I can see the stars.

scarecrow tour and more

We went to Canby to visit Mom on Friday afternoon. We had a good time doing what we usually do which is sitting around and visiting over wine and pizza. Saturday morning, Mom and I did a little looking around downtown. They have a new coffee shop and bakery so we popped in there. Busy place! When we got home, Mom took a nap and Regis and I did the scarecrow tour. There are a few pics in the slide show that are not scarecrows...some interesting homes (love the one with Big Bird on the porch), some tombstones in the cemetery, and some of the dog. Gus loved Mom's yard...especially the wild turkeys.

We're going to spend today getting ready for a busy week. I am hoping that after October, things will slow down some. I don't like to be quite this busy. I'm more of a sitting around kind of girl.

That's my Dad's cowboy hat I'm wearing. Mom gave it to Regis but I claimed it when we got home. It's a good look.

Regis is wearing a shirt Peter left behind. Southpole is favored by hip and young urbanites who frequently cut thumb holes in the cuffs of their shirts. Regis just likes the soft thermal knit. He is not a hip or a young urbanite.

We got home about 5:30 yesterday. Regis took Gus to the dog park for a run while I unpacked the stuff. When they got back, Regis and I went to Patrick's for a cheeseburger which was a minor mistake. It was GAC homecoming weekend and the place was rocking. They had a bouncer at the door at 6 o'clock and it was a good thing. There was an old dude in the next booth who was loud and obnoxious. I don't know how the people sitting next to him could stand it...we barely could. We ate and left quickly.

I'm going to finally get my Halloween decorations out today. I don't know what has made me so slow this year. Emily, and maybe David (brother from St. Paul) are coming late afternoon for pizza and Downton Abbey.

Regis is having knee replacement surgery on Wednesday. We have to be at the hospital by 5 am so he should be out of surgery before the sun comes up. The hospital here does not have a cafeteria so they get their food from the nursing home. That doesn't sound very appealing. I'll have to plan ahead.

On to Sunday.

a journey without a goat

I love the things I misread. I looked at one of my favorite zen blogs this morning and the title was "a journey without a goal", which I read as "a journey without a goat". I like that.

My friend, Steve Schipp, used to say that the world is made up of two kinds of people, those who can drive a forklift and those who cannot. He was right.

I've been in a very philosophical mood lately and I think it comes with turning 60 the end of the month. And it comes from spending so much time in doctor's offices lately. I have vowed not to spend so much time recounting our current woes (which are not really woes, but maintenance) because, for one thing, it's hard to keep them straight, and for another, it leads to no good.

So, my philosophical state of mind. I'm reading a book about habits. How to change the bad ones and fortify the good ones. It makes it seem so simple, changing the habits of your life.

I've never been much for philosophy. I took a class in college and left after the first day. I didn't want to debate if a chair was really a chair or if it was a dream. That's a journey without a goat, right there. I suppose the whole point of philosophy is to examine your own life by pondering the thoughts of others. Hmmm.

Part of my current mission to rid myself of junk. I have another pile of bags and boxes by the door for pick-up tomorrow. I regularly get rid of stuff by giving it to Jan. Unclutter the house, unclutter the mind.

If I had more boxes, I'd be in better shape to continue.

What do you do with photo albums from your early twenties? I never look at them anymore and certainly nobody else wants to look at them. High school year books? Old vinyl records? A set of three martini glasses that I haven't used in five years? Gone. Gone. Gone.

I read this article in the Tribune a couple Sundays ago. I'm going to paste the whole thing in here because I love it and I know it will disappear from the internets eventually and I will never be able to keep track of a newspaper clipping. This is my virtual scrapbook.

Autumn blues: loss into life
David McGrath
We have begun the season of heartbreak. Fall in the north woods, like Shakespeare's Ophelia, is a tragic beauty.
The weather cool and paradisiacal. No insects. None of the heat and humidity of July. No ice, no snow, nor the slashing winds of February. A cornucopia of color.
Yet fall evokes loss. Tourists are gone. Children off to school. Loons flown south. Hummingbird feeders desolate.
I am haunted, still, by an owl from last night, its lonely wail waking me at 3 a.m.
Dr. John Sharp, writing in Psychology Today ("Autumn Now") describes autumn as the most emotional time of year, for the many memories it stirs of childhood and of change, triggered by "sights and smells and sounds that remind us of what we might have experienced."
Like recent losses in my own life. My good gold dog. All that's left is a photo on the refrigerator -- Frank escaping with my wife's flip-flop.
Now I watch the crows and squirrels he chased, and I beckon to them with an absurd, unspoken question: Is Frank OK?
And then I scold myself, a rational being, and try to adapt to his absence. He remains as a thought, a wavelength between a proton and an electron in my brain.
My father's been gone for decades, but I felt a fresh pang down by our lake. Fifty years ago, the two of us sat in a boat as he rowed seemingly effortlessly, not both oars at once, but the left and then the right in perfect syncopation, propelling us straight.
Toward the end, I had begun reading a story to him in the hospital, got halfway through when visiting hours were over. He died before I could return the next evening to finish.
His picture is in an 8-by-10-inch frame on the coffee table, a black-and-white mugshot of the old man in a suit, his mirthful smile. His life still sending current through me, my siblings, my children. Would his relevance vanish if unremembered?
My friend Joe and I began first grade together in the fall, stayed friends through school, through discoveries, successes, travails. He was instrumental in my meeting the woman who would become my wife. Since his death in January, how long can I preserve the sound of his laughter in my head? Should I?
And in another cruel trick played on us humanoids, we also suffer the loss of that which technically does not even exist. I look in the yard and see an image of my children in colorful hooded ski jackets, playing with a balloon in the yard. Their voices tinkling like a wind chime. And though they are grown up and on their own journeys of memory-making, the imagined picture fades to today's empty yard, overgrown and mottled with dead leaves, making me sad.
But they're still present in this world, so what exactly am I missing? The feeling? A dream? A segment of time that has passed?
Are time segments even real?
Sorry for all the questions. A column should not be all questions. It should have a resolution. Therefore, I offer two.
The first is that the pain of loss -- the litany of losses we start and never stop accumulating from middle age -- teaches us that we should live in the moment, clinging with bare hands to the high-voltage wire of life.
It's the theme of Thornton Wilder's play "Our Town," in which a character returned from the dead wants to shake the daylights out of family members still living, make them realize they should never take even a split-second for granted -- not the briefest conversation with a sibling, not an embrace from their father, certainly not an "I love you" from a spouse. Grasp and stare into their eyes, soul to soul.
Years ago, I callously advised my wife to get rid of everything -- the faded baby bonnet, the discolored photograph -- since they only reminded her of what was lost.
I was wrong. For anything that encapsulates a memory, enhances the present and future. There is something good in a remembrance that is spiked with sadness, because loss and regret compel us to change, to live better, more intensely, more hungrily, more generously.
The second resolution is that memories of the people and things we have lost, though painful, are therapeutic. They keep us connected to a story that, though invisible, is real, vibrating through those photos, bonnets, smells, sounds, letters, thoughts and dreams.
And as long as we can recall and relate that story, we will never be lonely -- even if we are alone.
I walk to the fridge and Frank's picture, recollecting that sunny noisy afternoon. Maybe I'll get a rescue dog from the shelter. Doesn't even have to be gold.
----------------
David McGrath, an emeritus English professor at the College of DuPage, lives in Hayward, Wis., and is the author of "The Territory."

And so, to conclude my Wednesday morning ramble, this picture, which I have published before but which seems to sum it all up...bear on a bicycle.

Keep pedaling, my friends.

coming out of the versed fog

I had a couple of very good naps yesterday, then slept well last night. What a gift a good night's sleep can be. I woke up several times but when I tried to read, my eyes closed and I drifted back to sleep. Ah, so nice.

Versed is a good drug if you have to have a medical procedure but it seems to leave me foggy-headed. Of course, with my sleeping patterns this past week, it could be that, too.

King Karl and Queen Silvia of Sweden were in St. Peter yesterday. I don't recall all the official reasons for the trip but I am sorry to have missed the pomp. Ella attended with her elementary school class so I'm sure she'll give me the full report, although I think she will be as disappointed as I was that they were not wearing royal robes and crowns.

The forecast was for snow flurries this morning between 3 o'clock and 5 o'clock. I didn't stick my head out the door to to see if that transpired because I think there should be more than a week between sandals and winter boots. Truth is, I have been wearing boots and socks for a couple weeks now. I hate cold feet.

I'm actually thinking about not putting out all my Halloween stuff this year. It's a considerable amount and with Regis's surgery right in the middle of the month, I'm worried that suddenly it will be December 1st and we'll be sitting in a roomful of ghosts and witches. I'll probably succumb tomorrow when Peter is here to tote the bins out of the basement for me.

Gus and I just went to the back yard and there were no snow flurries.

The other day on a trip to the thrift store, I found a vintage red swing coat for $9. A few years ago, I was in a lather to find one and spent a lot of time on the internet looking. And here it was, right there. I'm not sure it's vintage. I asked the woman working there what vintage meant and she said, older than the young women doing the pricing. (I took it to be cleaned, Deb!) It will be a hoot to wear.

I've been vintage fur coat shopping on Etsy. I know, I know. I haven't bought anything but I've done a lot of reading and research.

Here's what vintage means, according to the interwebs: Vintage clothing is defined as previously-owned clothing, that with age, looks better and maintains style. Time is not the only criteria used to define vintage, but rather other elements such as enduring style, perceived quality and accrued value. Vintage clothing usually comes from a different era, but the definition should not be confined only in years.

I'm not sure all the stuff hanging on that rack fits this definition. I think polyester pull-over blouses are not examples of enduring style.

Moving on into the day. Happy Saturday!

ahhhh....what day is it?

I haven't slept well for several days. Tuesday night I was awake by 3am. Wednesday night, I was awake between midnight and 6am when I fell asleep for another hour and missed my workout appointment. Thursday night I fell asleep at 3am and woke up to the alarm at 6am.

The sort of good news is that I had to go in for an endoscopy this morning. It's only what the doc calls surveillance so no need for concern. I've had these before and they make it pretty painless. And so the good news part of this is that the Versed and Fentanyl they gave me were a great gift of relaxation, then sleep.

I can be a bit of a handful as a patient since I had a bad experience with an endoscopy without sedation once. The medical people who recommended that should try it themselves and see how they like it. The next time, memories of that led me to grip the handrails of the gurney on the way to the procedure room and tell everyone in a panicked voice that I am a nervous patient and they shouldn't let me choke. I burst into tears the time after that when told that the doctor I expected to do the procedure had been in surgery all night so there was a substitution. A substitute surgeon. Oh, no.

They must have called him and explained because shortly after, the real doctor showed up looking like he was prepared to deal with a recalcitrant child instead of a 55 year old woman. He was making a pinched face. I told him that the notion of having a garden hose put in my throat by a stranger was distressing. He said they always try to use an endoscope but he was patient and kind and in the end, I was sorry for being such a pain in the ass.

We stopped at Guenther's for a bite of breakfast because I was instantly hungry when I woke up since I hadn't eaten since last night. A nice omelet and toast...comfort food.

I came home, crawled back into my bed and went to sleep for almost two hours. Bliss. I just asked Regis when he thought my marbles would come back and he said two weeks. Ah, no.

The wind has been torturous the past two days. It howled all night giving me dreams of parties gone awry, dust bunny sweeping, and wild fires. I've said before that Regis dreams in detail with plots and names. I dream in amorphous blobs and images.

Elliot went to the park this week with his other grandma and grandpa. It's been a trying fall for him with the changes in daycare. Sweet boy.

I have to go lie down again. Thanks for listening!

warming up and getting control

I'm sitting in front of my computer, thinking about River Rock's blog. I have to get the wheels going here to I'll hammer out the contents of my brain on this blog first.

Thinking about writing. I rarely write with a pen anymore. At least not more than signing my name or writing on a card. I am fairly fast at writing on a full keyboard, but NOT on a phone. Not text messages. Regis said I give myself away as a person of the older generation (like this would be a surprise) when I text with one finger. Really? I cannot manage to write anything intelligible with my thumbs.

When I was in high school, my grandma really encouraged me to take typing so I would have something to fall back on. Boy, that's a different time, eh? I wonder if they even teach keyboarding, or whatever the hell you call it, these days.

I am going to watch my online cussing because I read some research that said a lot of online cussing is a sign of sociopathy. It's not the only sign, obviously, but it's one. Hahaha! Not like using the F word is going to cause it.

If you look up sashay in the dictionary, this is the picture.

Two guys taking a nap at the Rock Bend music festival.

This is the photo I was looking for but I got distracted by the other two. I'm not sure I agree completely with this sentiment although I try not to cuss around small children or people who it offensive. I don't cuss loudly in public places but I do find a well-placed F bomb to be healthy for my mind.

I started reading State of Wonder by Ann Patchett this morning. I can feel it calling me....

Back to work. Oh, yeah. The control part of the subject line refers to all the appointments we have in October. What the hell.

happy birthday buns of stone!

On October 1st, 2006, Regis and I started this blog. It had a different purpose when it started than the purpose to which it seems to have evolved. It started as a way to document our 500 miles walk but once we abandoned that adventure, it became mostly a documentation of our imperfect lives...cooking, eating, entertaining, books, Gus, grandchildren, and other miscellaneous observations and commentary. So, happy birthday to my blog!

I think it should be Sunday today as I am not quite ready to take on Monday. Let's just do that, shall we?

are there better days than yesterday?

What a very nice day we had yesterday. We picked Ella up at 2:30 so she could attend the wedding in Janesville with us. She had planned her outfit carefully and was attired in a gray sparkly dress, pink hat, and ruffly socks.

Throughout the day, she would turn the hat's flower from front to back, or even the side. Regis always commented and she reminded him that he didn't know about girls' hats. Even in her fancy clothes, she gave me a volleyball lesson at the park. She had learned this from a friend of hers in first grade, and from watching volleyball on the Olympics.

She was very interested in all aspects of the wedding and helped Regis get his stole on correctly. She wondered if he would have to speech and if he knew how to do that. I assured her he did and it would be fine. Hmm, she said.

The wedding party arrived in fire department vehicles, the groom in his dress uniform. It was a nice touch.

We went to Pappageorge for dinner after the wedding, where Ella entertained us with her banter. She pronounced that Pappageorge was a classy place, classier than Patrick's, for sure. She had learned the word classy on Sponge Bob Squarepants.

We had wonderful steaks for dinner, shared a piece of carrot cake, and came on home. A splendid day, for sure.

lazy and lethargic ennui on saturday afternoon

I came home from River Rock and the bank about 10:50 and saw the Oktoberfest parade lining up on Third Street. I tried to convince Regis to put on a funny hat and jump in the car so we could join the parade, windows rolled down, Gus hanging his furry head out the back, radio playing Whoopee John Wilfahrt. I'm not sure he thought I was serious but I was.

I bought a loaf of Cranberry Walnut Bread, a raspberry scone, and a latte. I took all of it out to a table in the front where I watched the cars go by...and the monster trucks. The size of vehicles people drive around in is astonishing. The latte was wonderful, Helena! It's National Coffee Day so this was a good treat. A piece of advice. Never get a latte to go. It ruins the whole experience if you have to suck your drink through a little plastic hole and you can't see the latte art. The ceramic cup is so much better!

Regis and I applied for absentee ballots this year, unsure of where we'll be in the maelstrom of medical issues  in which we seem to be swirling. Mine came today and as I sat and perused it, I realized how rushed and pressure-filled the voting experience is. Nobody is badgering you to move along but the atmosphere...the gymnasium, the booths where you stand with your pencil, and the constant noise and motion does not lend itself to contemplation.

I think the voting experience should be more like a bistro or the patio of a bar. A place where a person can have a latte or a glass of wine, think about the piece of paper in front of them, and the consequences of the choices they are making. Doesn't that sound nicer? I wonder if they have some limit on the number of absentee ballots they will grant. If not, we could all agree to get one and to meet up somewhere on a given day. Or Maybe every Friday afternoon in October is voting day at Patrick's. I'm just sayin'.

I think I mentioned this morning that Regis is performing a wedding this afternoon so we went to the rehearsal yesterday. In my role as observer, the family dynamics are always interesting to watch. Most families today include a couple of ex's, a few step this or thats, maybe a grandma with a second husband. All makes for interesting walks down the aisle and seating arrangements. The best advice I have read is to not wait until the rehearsal to make those decisions. It could get ugly. This one didn't, but it could.

I told Regis he should find out what the bride and groom want, then he should be the director of the action. That way the B & G don't get the job of explaining why so-and-so has to sit in the second row. It's all very thought-provoking, don't you think?

Ah, well. Here I go again, offering my particular brand of punditry. Is somebody making the raspberry sound?

saturday morning

I've been sitting here since I woke up, drinking coffee, watching the leaves drift down in the garden, and thinking about my plan for the day. It's not too extensive, believe me. Regis took Gus to the dog park and I said I would get going and pick up my check at River Rock but I have postponed that briefly so spend some more time sitting.

Regis had good news from the doctor the other day so we're going ahead with plans to replace the right knee. We had a laugh the other day over trying to remember if we were going to the urologist about a cataract or an orthopedic surgeon about a bladder issue. There were many hilarious permutations, as you can imagine. We crack ourselves up sometimes.

I finished a book when I was awake in the middle of the night. Provenance is the title. It's non-fiction with enough drama and intrigue to make it a story of interesting people.

We shifted our exercise routine to afternoons for the month of September. Rachel needed someone to be there to cover that hour and Regis thought it would work. It didn't. I got the creeps being there alone and only one of us could usually go because the other one had something else to do. We're done with that now but we have to come up with a new routine. Back to mornings.

I bought a new digital frame a couple weeks ago and finally assembled about 500 photos for it. As I was looking over pictures from the last several years, I realized how awful my garden looks this year. My goal is to clean it up this fall so I have a clean palette in the spring. We have gradually increased the shade in our yard to the point where flowers that need sun don't grow, or at least don't grow well. They're leggy and ugly. Peter has agreed to come over and be my shoveler for day in exchange for a big steak. Here's to a better looking yard next year.

Regis is performing a wedding in Janesville this afternoon. The groom is a firefighter so the happy couple will arrive on a firetruck. I'm sure I will weep. Ella is coming along and we have plans to be mildly fancy. She enjoys a good sparkle event as much as I do.

Here I go. Into the day. Happy Saturday.

the week and a few photos

Sitting at my computer doing my social media thing which can be a gigantic time suck if I won't watch it. I could sit here for a long time, mesmerized by numbers, making comments and liking, checking it all out. I was in the shop for the first few hours of the day, chatting with customers. I love that part of my job.

A fellow came in who said he was from Southern California. I didn't get his name but the dog's name is Dewey. They're traveling together in a camper so I asked if he knew Travels with Charlie. He said the name of his blog is Travels with Dewey. Ha! Dewey waiting so patiently by the door while he visited with other customers and drank his tea.

I've been loving the summer fruit but I must say that peach was a big disappointment. By the time it smelled like a peach, it was rotten in the middle. Nice. The pears were great.

Regis and I are doing a programmer for the day spot on KMSU tomorrow morning. We're doing our favorites, Bob Dylan and Neil Young. I'm the Bob fan so I'm responsible for that portion of the show. I had to order a couple more CDs because the songs I wanted weren't on the CDs I had. You might know.

We're almost to the end of our CSA for the summer. I love some parts of it but the kale and the eggplant can get burdensome and it's just too much produce for two people. Next year we are going to be farmer's market customers.

So, here I sit. I should get up and do dishes and think about something for dinner but what I feel like doing is reading for a bit and taking a nap. It's been a rough day at work...drinking latte and chatting with nice people.

applause for a sunday

The Only Way to Respond to Life
Post written by Leo Babauta.
I went for a run along the beach at sunset yesterday, foam kissing my bare feet, smooth sand caressing my soles, and the sky exploding with color.
I paused for breath, mostly because the sky, and the Pacific, had borrowed my breath from me.
I stopped and applauded.
This is the only response that life deserves: overjoyed applause.
This morning, wherever you are, whatever life has given you, take a moment to really appreciate this gift, and applaud. I mean, actually applaud.
Then give back to life, something, anything, to show your gratitude for this miracle you’ve been given. Do anything: be kind to someone, create something, be gentle with your children, do something where your body feels full of life.
We often not only take life for granted, but complain about it. Life isn’t perfect, work is boring, people are too rude, drivers are idiots, no one gets me, I have too many things to do. But goodness, look around you! What a wonder life is! If only we would take the time to see it, to really appreciate it, and to applaud.
This moment is a ridiculously generous miracle. Give it up, folks, for life.

I love this website and the emails I get frequently from them. Always thoughtful reminders of the way you want to be.

Having said that, I am going to whine about being tired.

I am trying to sort things out in our house and get rid of stuff. I go in fits and starts. Boxes here and there. Sometimes I get crazy and get rid of stuff I probably will wish I hadn't. Sometimes I keep crap around that should have gone years ago.

In the last month, we've had, between the two of us, about fifteen medical appointments. I want to go to all of them, but it makes my head spin.

I am done complaining now.

It's a beautiful fall day and I'm going to sip my coffee at my desk (newly reorganized) while I start my week's social media planning. Regis is at the dog park with Gus. Life is very good for us.

the week of tune-ups and maintenance

I had to look back at the calendar to remember what we did this past week. The list is impressive:

1. Gus was bathed and groomed on Monday.
2. Regis and I both got haircuts on Monday.
3. We worked at the Pulse M, T, and Th from 2:30-3:30.
4. I worked Tuesday evening at River Rock for Business After Hours.
5. We had a furnace tune-up on Wednesday.
6. Jan came to clean the house on Wednesday.
7. Regis and I had annual eye appointments on Wednesday.
8. We worked at Pappageorge doing social media on Thursday night.
9. I worked my 15 hours for River Rock this week.
10. Regis had surgery Friday.

What the hell. That was a long haul for a couple of old dudes.

We've been gone so much and I know that someone has been coming into our house in our absence and leaving their shit around in random piles. Clothes, jackets, paper, bills, empty boxes. I'll be busy today making sense of the rubble.

Regis came through the surgery with flying colors as they say, although I'm not sure what that means. The doctor said everything went as expected. We went to the hospital at 12 and were home by 4. Gus went to the Paw Pet Resort in our absence so he was well cared for. Regis had a good night's sleep and now we just wait for the pathology report. We are optimistic.

I found out on Wednesday that I have cataracts in both eyes but the one in my right eye may be ready for surgery. I know that isn't such a big deal except it sounds like an old person thing again. I seem to be bumping into those all the time lately. My philosophy has always been that getting old beats the hell out of the alternative which would be not getting old so I guess I'll be patient with it.

On to a quiet weekend.

1708 posts and where does this stuff come from?

I was sitting over the keyboard this morning, in the dark, sipping my coffee and contemplating the title of this post. This is post #1709 and I wonder how I could have thought of all those titles and all that stuff I write about. I guess the words spellbound by our own imperfect lives, which I did not write, explain it.

I worked at the Chamber Business After Hours yesterday afternoon. It's been fun the two times I have done it. River Rock makes a great spread of food, business people from the area come in to mingle and sample, and I get to chat with them. I guess you could call that work, right?

It was late when I got home so Regis and I went to Whiskey River for dinner. It was a chilly evening, getting dark as we left the house, and we had a fine time sipping wine and talking about the day. I had a Reuben sandwich which was so big I could only eat a quarter of it. The French onion soup was delicious, too.

I maintain two business Facebook pages now, River Rock and Pappageorge. It's fun work and I've learned a lot, mainly that you can never have too much content or too many photos. I've studied the numbers enough to know what works. People don't want an advertisement, they want to be social. Oh, it's hard work being so engaging all the time. Hahaha!

We're heading to Mankato this morning to buy some groceries, get our annual eye exams, and to take Gus to the Paw for a few hours. That dog loves to run and play. We might stop for coffee and I might make a run into the consignment shop. The clothes I've bought there this summer I wear like uniforms. I love that last long cardigan I bought.

I better get moving. No news to report beyond what you just read.

frost on the grass and stars in the sky

Regis told me to go into the backyard when I woke up at 5 am. The stars were so pretty and so clear, with puffy clouds suspended between earth and...wherever. The grass was crunchy so apparently, fall is here, unofficially.

It's 6:10 and dark as night outside. One thing I don't appreciate about fall...shorter days. I know what's coming. I dread the days when the sun goes down before 5 o'clock and doesn't come up again until almost 8 o'clock.

I had to get up and put a sweater on last night. I have not dug out the heated mattress pad yet as it seems to early. But right now, I'm layered in t-shirt, sweater, sweatshirt, leggings, sox, and slippers. Ah, winter can come.

I finished a book last night called The Light Between Oceans by ML Stedman. It was hard to put down and I read it in just a couple of days.

I'm fascinated by the book reviews on Amazon and B&N. Some people read a book and then spend a LOT of time writing summaries and their opinions. You can't put too much stock in them because even books I thought sucked something fierce had fans on Amazon. Larry McMurtry's Berrybender Sage trilogy, for one. Worst book ever. I didn't get past book one and I would take that to work and read the dumb sentences aloud at the lunch table for entertainment. Sorry if I am insulting Larry, but if you write a book that bad, you deserve to take a few on the chin. Even those books got lots of 5 star reviews. What the...

I didn't write this review, but I wish I had:

This silly book could not possibly have been written by the genius of Lonesome Dove, so Larry McMurtry must be dead or missing in the wilderness, perhaps stuffed inside some frozen dead buffalo on the prairie in a blizzard , trapped by the frozen hide. Or hiding, maybe. I read the first book, hoping it would Start at some point and Go somewhere, but it never did. This is the silliest, dumbest, most surreal book purporting to be about something actual, that I've ever read and contains some of the most annoying, egregious, and insulting characters ever created. This book must be a spoof on spoofs of the J. F. Cooper genre, is all I can conclude. I will not bother reading the rest of this "series," it is irredeemable! Mr. Larry McMurtry must be found---No Author Left Behind! (Jeffrey A. Friedberg on Amazon.com)

I know, I know. I'm losing the point.

I'm also continuing to be a bit obsessive about crossword puzzles. I didn't finish last Sunday's  which I appreciate. I work until I'm stuck then he takes it for the evening. Sometimes I put in words, like ideate, and he asks me if it's a real word. To tell the truth, I'm not sure but it fit. Turns out it is a word. I have some weird mental rules about when it's ok to check google for an answer.

We've been having internet issues which will drive you insane. Regis has been to Mediacom once, has been on the phone several times to tech support, we bought a new router and we still have what he calls drop-offs. Internet is like phones used to be...you just expect that it will work and when it doesn't, it's frustrating.

Yesterday, we all got haircuts. Gus went down to Terry by 7:30 and was home bathed and groomed and smelling sweet by noon. Regis and I went to Nate's at 10 where we were duly entertained by Nate and Don. Best entertainment deal in town. We had a latte at River Rock, picked up the dog, and went home. Retirement is good.

It's not that I don't work. I work more some days than others but I keep busy between River Rock, the new place, doing some consulting, and filling in at the Pulse. I am not a complete sloth, is my point.

I have taken on another social media client (restaurant in Mankato) which has been fun. It's a team effort with Regis taking pictures and me doing the writing and posting. Notice how I always choose places with good coffee, food, wine, and flowers? I would never take on an auto repair client, for example, because I'd have to hang out there sniffing bad fumes and eating out of vending machines.

I've rambled enough. If you got this far, I hope you stopped in the middle and went out to look at the stars!

smurfs play football

Regis performed a wedding in Mankato yesterday afternoon. We were so dehydrated by the warm wind and I was traumatized by a bee sting so we stopped at Pappageorge, one of our very favorite places to have a cold beer and a bite to eat.

One of the reasons I like to go there is that it's fairly easy to avoid a television, of which they have only two. Yesterday, we were the only patrons in attendance and I wasn't thinking so we sat within eye-shot of a football game. I don't know what this team is called, but seriously, the field is bright blue, their helmets are bright blue, and their uniforms are bright blue. Is this an attempt to be camouflaged? Most of the time it looked like only one team on the field. Whose idea was this?

I know that isn't real grass, but shouldn't it be green?

This is Regis waiting for the wedding party to come down the hill. He got to stand in this cool little arbor thing made by the groom. The wedding had an Iowa Hawkeye theme in honor of Grandpa's 75th birthday, hence the Hawkeye at the top and the black and gold colors. It was a very sweet wedding and Regis did a great job. He looked so handsome and I was very proud of him.

I also attended St. Peter Day at Gustavus for a while before the wedding. I had planned on this for a while but somehow it had escaped my conscious mind that the event was taking place a football game. It was probably the first one I have attended in 30 years.

I would say that I had my fill of football yesterday. Small and innocuous bites, but enough exposure for a while.

Speaking of bites, the bee sting story is as follows. I was wearing a hat because I was going to be out in the sun for the afternoon and didn't want a sunburn. In the car after the wedding, I felt this biting sting at the back of my neck, under my hat brim, and I developed a huge welt. I never did find the culprit...only the evidence.

On to Sunday.

going to the basement for the day

I hate high winds. I also hate the critical fire alert they keep blabbing about in the paper. I think I'll spend the day in the basement. Oh, wait. I have to go to Gustavus this afternoon...the windiest spot in Nicollet County...and spend three hours standing on the mall outside the student union. I better load my pockets with rocks.

A critical fire alert, for anyone other than a member of the fire department, seems meaningless. I will refrain from burning leaves (common sense?) but otherwise I'm not sure of the action to take. It seems to be like the time they had the sniper in Washington. They advised people to walk in a zig-zag pattern. I tried it a couple times but it was awkward. Or the government's color alert system for terrorism. Sometimes I think we get too much information.

I set my alarm so I would get up and put the trash and recycling out this morning. Sometimes we wake up when we hear the truck rumbling down the street. Nothing like a mad dash in front of the trash hauler at 7 am, although it's probably a scene he is accustomed to seeing.

We have a little unspoken rivalry on our street. You don't want to be the last to bring your trash containers up on the day of collection. It's ok to wait until you get home from work, but you don't want to let them sit there for days. That would be middle class slothfulness. Like wearing your pajamas until noon.

I read in the paper once about a fancy neighborhood that had "covenants" about trash containers. Lots of them. You were not allowed to leave your trash container outside of an enclosed building, take it to the front of your house, or leave it out for more than thirty minutes after the truck had passed. Too many rules for me.

I looked covenants up on Wikipedia. A covenant usually refers to a sacred agreement between God and humanity. Doesn't that seem kind of serious for a rule about trash cans and clothes lines? What the hell.

I'm reading another book of historical fiction. This time, I swear, I am really done. I have to get out of the 1600s and read something with more modern language and a tad bit more action of the kind that does not include lopping off heads and running men through with giant swords. I can't believe the main character has lived more than 60 years...those were bad ass times.

Regis is still sleeping. We had a medical backhand yesterday that we did not anticipate. We've been to so many appointments lately that we expected this one to be fine, too. Not so. We're optimistic about the surgery next week and we try not to spend too much time dwelling on the bad crap that can happen.

Enough of this and that. Stay cool and fire-free today.

a killer workout

Yesterday, I'm working out with Rachel who must sometimes forget that I am almost sixty. She says, "Do the sidewinder down and back two times." I looked at her dumbly so she demonstrated. Plank position, cross hands, move down the floor. Who invents this stuff?

This picture of Kermit doing the plank looks more like me than the other muscle-bound and scantily-clad women I saw in my google search.

I had to do a frog jump, too, which must be easier if you are an actual frog. Getting my old bones to crouch down and move horizontally down the mat is not an easy thing to muster and might have been hilarious to watch. Similar to the ministry of silly walks. I'm here to tell the story, though, so I guess it didn't kill me.

My goals for exercise are simply to be strong and active. I'm not looking to appear in public in a bikini anymore but would settle for being able to get out of my chair alone when I'm really old.

Elliot came to spend the day with us on Thursday. We met his Aunt Emily and Cousin Alex at the coffee shop where the boys played with trains for an hour while we chatted.

Elliot is on the patio watching a woodpecker eat peanuts. He was fascinated and was able to get very close. The woodpecker turned his head from time to time to keep at eye on him, but didn't seem bothered. I think we've kept him well-fed on peanuts for a long time so he trusts us.

We packed a picnic lunch and went to the park to play. Elliot says this is his happy face. I also took some pictures of what he called his not happy face. We had a fine time.

Regis is making me coffee, it's Bob's 33rd birthday, I'm watching the birds flit around the garden, and it's a beautiful morning. Grand start to the day!

Happy birthday, Bob!

bear rides trike: like a lot of things in life

This picture really amused me. The more I think about it, it's a good metaphor for life. In more situations than not, we're ill-equipped to deal with what comes down the road but we grab the handle bars and pedal anyway. What else can we do?

I've been going to yoga classes periodically for a few years. It's been frustrating because I felt like I didn't know anything and it went too fast. It was like playing football when you don't know the rules. Not that I've ever done that. I couldn't watch the instructor and do the difficult poses at the same time, as hard as I tried.

I ordered a DVD and tried it the other day. The instructor goes very slow with the directions and tells me to focus on breathing. I know a few simple things now and feel competent enough to keep practicing. Interesting how we think we will learn just by being around someone who knows how to do it. It's the bear on the tricycle metaphor again.

It was my second fall with no first day of school and I can say I felt no pangs of regret or nostalgia. None. I got another one of those mildly threatening letters from some statewide organization for school administrators. They think that because I had a license, I should pay them a yearly fee. I sent them a letter once and said when I had a snow ball's chance in hell of getting a job as one, I would consider paying dues. Until then, not a chance. They keep sending the annual letter and I keep ripping it up in fits of maniacal laughter.

Now that I have been distracted by many things, I'll try to focus on getting to work. Get on your tricycle today and pedal like hell.