Who is having surgery for noninvasive breast cancer tomorrow. She's 79, her name is Suzy, and she's pretty damn tough. I'd sure appreciate any kind thoughts or prayers you'd send her way. She says she's not worried, just really pissed off over her bad luck.
She and my dad raised us four kids all over the West, from New Mexico to Alaska, before retiring to Texas.
Hang in there, Ma, and get well!
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Big wind
No, not me. There's wind storm out there, rocking the pine trees and stirring up dirty grey clouds. The wind advisory firm the NWS calls for gusts up to 50 MPH.
If we're lucky, the big pines will stay rooted in the ground. If not, some of them will blow over, taking power lines with them, and the area will have no lights or water for a day or three.
-------------------------
The wind got a little scary there, and I shut down the computer. But all is well – no power loss or downed trees. The ground is littered with pine needles, though. Might rake up some for kindling.
The forecast is for rain, for the next week. And likely until the snow flies next month. Not excited about the fall rains, mostly because of the leaky roof, and the relentless grey skies and muddy ground. Snow usually comes as a bright, clean relief.
I'm pleased I managed to finish the rooster house and the roofing over the basement stairs before the rain hit.
During the storm, I made the rounds of the building, blocking that floppy window in the stairs room with bricks, and the north door with a heavy can of paint. Locked the south door to keep it from blowing open, and added a few chunks of heavy wood to the metal roofing over the woodpile. Hauled in some bigger logs for the stove. Brought four bowls of nearly ripe tomatoes from the other kitchen. Left a message at SNAP, a local HUD agency, to see if we can reconfigure our mortgage and lower our payment since I'm officially disabled now.
That's it for work for me today. I'm reading "Slow Dancing on Dinosaur Bones" by Lana Witt. Good book. Just finished "Dancing Bear" by James Crumbly. Also good.
Earl is out barking at coyotes.
Tamale pie for dinner. One egg today.
If we're lucky, the big pines will stay rooted in the ground. If not, some of them will blow over, taking power lines with them, and the area will have no lights or water for a day or three.
-------------------------
The wind got a little scary there, and I shut down the computer. But all is well – no power loss or downed trees. The ground is littered with pine needles, though. Might rake up some for kindling.
The forecast is for rain, for the next week. And likely until the snow flies next month. Not excited about the fall rains, mostly because of the leaky roof, and the relentless grey skies and muddy ground. Snow usually comes as a bright, clean relief.
I'm pleased I managed to finish the rooster house and the roofing over the basement stairs before the rain hit.
During the storm, I made the rounds of the building, blocking that floppy window in the stairs room with bricks, and the north door with a heavy can of paint. Locked the south door to keep it from blowing open, and added a few chunks of heavy wood to the metal roofing over the woodpile. Hauled in some bigger logs for the stove. Brought four bowls of nearly ripe tomatoes from the other kitchen. Left a message at SNAP, a local HUD agency, to see if we can reconfigure our mortgage and lower our payment since I'm officially disabled now.
That's it for work for me today. I'm reading "Slow Dancing on Dinosaur Bones" by Lana Witt. Good book. Just finished "Dancing Bear" by James Crumbly. Also good.
Earl is out barking at coyotes.
Tamale pie for dinner. One egg today.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Puttering
Chilly, windy day.
I stacked on the pile of wood the kids brought.
I winterized the duck house that A. gave us last year and Em and R. moved over to the rooster quarters. Basically, I covered the bottom, sides and front with thin plywood, which stiffened the structure quite a bit. The roof is metal, and lifts for human access. It should be quite snug for the four fellahs. C. helped me prop it up on 4x6s to keep it out of the snow and ice. Higher would be better.
I added a stout branch for a roost, and tossed some layer crumbles inside so they'd check it out. They moseyed in to eat the crumbles, then went back out into the wind to roost on the brick windowsill. Idiots.
I'll cover the floor in straw, and maybe as the weather worsens they'll move inside.
Then worked on putting a tin roof over the outdoor stairs leading to the basement. I've had to cobble together scraps of the tin to finish the thing, so am adding some wooden supports in a couple of places. (Yes, it'd go quicker if I bought new materials, instead of scrounging roofing from the barn leftovers, but hippies don't do that.)
Hope to finish that tomorrow, and go on to reinsulating the pump house and a bunch of other jobs.
I've managed to put behind me (snort) the hideous image of my old-woman butt. And my tailbone is feeling better after that fall, though it still hurts to sit down, lay down and get up. Seriously, I need to wear some protective gear, since my natural bumper back there has shriveled up and fallen down. Something like an orange life jacket, stuffed into my underpants. A whoopee cushion, duct-taped to my jeans?
Three eggs today.
I stacked on the pile of wood the kids brought.
I winterized the duck house that A. gave us last year and Em and R. moved over to the rooster quarters. Basically, I covered the bottom, sides and front with thin plywood, which stiffened the structure quite a bit. The roof is metal, and lifts for human access. It should be quite snug for the four fellahs. C. helped me prop it up on 4x6s to keep it out of the snow and ice. Higher would be better.
I added a stout branch for a roost, and tossed some layer crumbles inside so they'd check it out. They moseyed in to eat the crumbles, then went back out into the wind to roost on the brick windowsill. Idiots.
I'll cover the floor in straw, and maybe as the weather worsens they'll move inside.
Then worked on putting a tin roof over the outdoor stairs leading to the basement. I've had to cobble together scraps of the tin to finish the thing, so am adding some wooden supports in a couple of places. (Yes, it'd go quicker if I bought new materials, instead of scrounging roofing from the barn leftovers, but hippies don't do that.)
Hope to finish that tomorrow, and go on to reinsulating the pump house and a bunch of other jobs.
I've managed to put behind me (snort) the hideous image of my old-woman butt. And my tailbone is feeling better after that fall, though it still hurts to sit down, lay down and get up. Seriously, I need to wear some protective gear, since my natural bumper back there has shriveled up and fallen down. Something like an orange life jacket, stuffed into my underpants. A whoopee cushion, duct-taped to my jeans?
Three eggs today.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
I'm in shock
Seriously rattled.
I made the monthly trek to town yesterday, lunch with buddies, pharmacy-grocery-beer-gas-chicken-food shopping, and dragged my tired old butt home.
Em, Richard and Liam (with a pumpkin cheesecake) were here to celebrate C.'s birthday, and they'd brought two loads of wood from a neighbor of my garden-club friends. It was awesome. R. unloaded the wood, and the car. Em made dinner. Liam and I read in the big recliner.
Then I helped Em deliver plates of cheesecake and the GF carrot cake I'd made yesterday, discovered I was without my cane while I crossed the kitchen holding two plates of cake, and in ominous slo-mo, windmilling, fell backward onto my butt on hardwood floor. Richard lunged to catch me and managed to save one plate, but not me. Boom.
Nothing was broken, not even me. I hurt some, and I'll be taking it easy for a few days. The shocking part came when I checked in the bathroom mirror for a bruise.
Sometime in the last 30 years, something has happened to my ass. Now, I've lost weight in the last year, thanks to my doc's ban of gluten. Maybe six belt notches. I don't pay much attention – after all, I'm in here, not out there. I don't look in mirrors much. (Who knows how many times I appeared at work with my hair sticking up, or tags on the outside? I don't. I have kind friends.) And I've gotten old – 59 at last count.
This morning I met my butt face-to-face. Or face-to... you know what I mean.
And I'm still reeling. (Mentally, I mean. Though if I forget the cane and am tired, physically, too.) Where there should be a robust bumper of butt cheek, there is a... sort of saggy hollow. And the cheek bit is a shriveled thing, way down there. Whoa.
What happened?
I'm going to go sit on the heating pad now, and read some escapist fiction.
Do they make helmets for the butt? Or do I have to wear my old fanny pack backward?
I made the monthly trek to town yesterday, lunch with buddies, pharmacy-grocery-beer-gas-chicken-food shopping, and dragged my tired old butt home.
Em, Richard and Liam (with a pumpkin cheesecake) were here to celebrate C.'s birthday, and they'd brought two loads of wood from a neighbor of my garden-club friends. It was awesome. R. unloaded the wood, and the car. Em made dinner. Liam and I read in the big recliner.
Then I helped Em deliver plates of cheesecake and the GF carrot cake I'd made yesterday, discovered I was without my cane while I crossed the kitchen holding two plates of cake, and in ominous slo-mo, windmilling, fell backward onto my butt on hardwood floor. Richard lunged to catch me and managed to save one plate, but not me. Boom.
Nothing was broken, not even me. I hurt some, and I'll be taking it easy for a few days. The shocking part came when I checked in the bathroom mirror for a bruise.
Sometime in the last 30 years, something has happened to my ass. Now, I've lost weight in the last year, thanks to my doc's ban of gluten. Maybe six belt notches. I don't pay much attention – after all, I'm in here, not out there. I don't look in mirrors much. (Who knows how many times I appeared at work with my hair sticking up, or tags on the outside? I don't. I have kind friends.) And I've gotten old – 59 at last count.
This morning I met my butt face-to-face. Or face-to... you know what I mean.
And I'm still reeling. (Mentally, I mean. Though if I forget the cane and am tired, physically, too.) Where there should be a robust bumper of butt cheek, there is a... sort of saggy hollow. And the cheek bit is a shriveled thing, way down there. Whoa.
What happened?
I'm going to go sit on the heating pad now, and read some escapist fiction.
Do they make helmets for the butt? Or do I have to wear my old fanny pack backward?
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