Jay

Sitting out writing, my blue friend stopped by. Literally a foot away from me. I stay still, and watch. Peanuts will be gone in an hour, as this one comes back over and over, wary, but tolerant of my presence.


Sky last evening. Etc.

GROJ

We've gotten rather good at this yard sailing business. Well, what else is there to do when both of us are awake before 6 on Saturday mornings? We check the listings the night before, or D does the morning of, print out a list of addresses, and about 8, we head out. Scan for signs, stop at any we find. Or not, if there are too many clothes laid out on blankets on the ground, an overwhelming preponderance of children's things, or it just looks sad and shabby. Some neighborhoods are much more prone to this.

We talk theory. The best ones are in older, upper-middle to very much upper, neighborhoods. Some excellent ones appear in arty enclaves, nice but uneven areas. Often estate, moving sales, or when it's clearly the next generation clearing out a parent or grandparent's home, are the best of all. Lots of items of all descriptions, good quality, and motivated hosts.

The worst are among low quality homes, on high volume streets. Often these are what we call perma-yard-sales, and they look suspiciously like fronts for drugs &/or stolen goods, and they look grey. Grey items, grey houses, grey people, and it's all dismal. Saw a few at the meth house as was last summer.

Some people overprice their detritus. Best example, a young woman with a number of well used handbags/purses, priced around $30, at a yard sale. I questioned this, and she defended it by saying they were $50 bags! I did not go on to recommend she go through an online bidding site instead, if she expected to get that much. Garage sales are all about getting rid of stuff to people who will take it away for you, and give you a nominal amount of money for the favor. Then donate or toss the rest even they won't take.

Clothes piled up just seems odd, to me. How often is a stranger driving by going to have similar taste in clothing, preferring it used, who is the same size as well? Makes a bit more sense for kids clothes, even then, better to gregslist*, isn't it?

Worse are the ones who don't get that yardsailing is an early morning pursuit, not meant for the heat of the day. Oh, they get a few stragglers, but the serious ones are home by 10. So if they are not set up by 8, which their listing says (ahem) the people who are going to buy are not coming back around.

We went for different areas than usual this morning, got out a bit further. Did not have as much luck, although we enjoyed the journey. Stumbled across a couple of good ones, with nothing for us. Still, I enjoy the allowed nosing into other's lives. Did find a little trash can, still had garbage in it, but it was a good brand and very cheap. When I got it home and cleaned it, not only was it a bit of tissue, but broken glass in the bag. Weirdness, all part of the deal.

We are slightly alarmed by the encroaching forest of sunflowers, debated pulling a few before we are engulfed. Curiosity overcame our alarm, we want to see how this is going to look. Last year, that side was so dead and drab, we stay our hands, and the weed digger.

Swept the garage, finally going through all of the leavings from Previous Occupants out there. Another trip to Waste Management, I'm afeared. Cleared the leaves and elm seeds, the cardboard from the bed frame, some of which is composting, not all, no room for all. And what I got out of the car yesterday, when I cleaned and vacuumed beloved vehicle. Some of the bottles, most, and I will recycle any more I get. I think I have enough for the bottle wall, but that will be a project for another year, after the raised beds. Hosed garage down, mostly to settle the dust. Quite satisfying, to see it clean and spacious.

All the bins, trash, recycle and yard waste (yes, we have three) out at the curb tomorrow. Poor D will have to bring them all in himself when he gets home Monday.

Attacked the hedge, not going to let that evil thing get out of control ever again. I would prefer it much shorter, but neighbor wants it tall, and I don't feel strongly enough to make it an issue. Just can't maintain it on my side at that height. Fought back the ivy as well, where the snails all thrive. But I think all the caffeine, diatomaceous earth, eggshells, & sand, have done the slug and snail population severe damage. Still see some tracks on the sidewalk in the early morning, much fewer.

Took a nap about 2PM. Elbows aching from the clippers, I ordered a small, cheap, electric hedge trimmer. This battle is not over. Well, it is today...


Old story, probably from Reader's Digest, about a listing for a GROJ sale. Customer comments on the clever spelling of Garage, seller says, no, it's an acronym, Get Rid Of Junk sale. Ha, ha, ha.


*Greg, Craig, what's the difference?

Lifting

A nap, an unexpected rainstorm, and the heavy fatigue lifts. The front garden flourishing, mostly.




Cats.

Shoes

Head seriously not working right this morning. Got some sleep, "woke" before the alarm would have chimed, needed to get up anyway - don't think I moved all night. Irritable, short tempered, trying hard not to be. Looking every day of my years, rosacea flared up, hitting my elbows on every upright around. Watered my neglected garden, not that the sunflowers noticed.

D's shoes went from need to think about replacing them, to uncomfortable, to painful in the space of a few days. So, we did. I got some shoes as well, since mine were cheap but adequate last summer, now a bit too much like slippers. Comfy if I don't walk far, otherwise too soft and stretched out. New shoes look so much like the ones I had a few years ago. D's new ones much the same as he's had before the last pair that imploded on him.

Got groceries, and beer as well. I had none when I got home last night, shivering from fatigue and probably anxiety. So we walked over, and I got some cheap, but drinkable stuff, just so I could come down enough not to bash myself out hitting the walls. This is the reason I drink, which is better than valium. Shorter half-life, less sedation, fewer side effects, and even the best beer is less expensive, as well as being OTC.

Email from Your Wild Life folks, preliminaries on house cultures. More analysis to come, but they sent me this nifty map.



Yeah, it's a bit small. They are working on it. The data trackers to measure temperature and humidity inside and outside for a year are in their hands as well, a second project I participated in. I see this as the future of science, when everyone just throws their data into the pot, and a clearer picture emerges, because there are more puzzle pieces available.

Enjoying working my way through this series of essays. What? Me? Interested in long form journalism? Gosh, whoda'thunk.

Hurts

Tuesday, all rooms running, no lunches, no breaks, eight hours.

Wednesday, breaks and lunches, all but one room running, and a terrible case that ran until 1930. Her hand looked much better by the time they were done, though.

Thursday, breaks and lunches, all but one room, looked like I would be home by 1600, but got caught into an add on case. A little hardware out, irrigation and debridement (I&D.) Clocked out at 1845, after more and more pus discovered, and a dozen screws and two plates removed.

Hard to keep in mind that a good day is when everyone gets out alive, and it's better to be doing the long case than to be the patient needing it done.

Shaking with exhaustion, unable to eat or wind down, not sure if I will sleep any hour soon.


Nearly broke down at two of the planted flowers looking dead and dry and, I thought, poisoned. D got water, settled me down, plants looked better shortly after. Took a bath, leaving D outside with Moby, and I heard the knock on the door. I don't remember locking it, but apparently...

Gods. How can three days hurt so much?

Wood

This was at our front step this morning.

The shopping cart from the big grocery store a block away, and a load of old lumber. We told the police about it, but just as a sort of FYI, and assured them we didn't need an officer, and would take care of it ourselves. D rather disturbed by the oddness.

After a little time, I turned it in my mind into a strange sort of gift. My father would have seen it as such. He loved to scrounge scrap wood from the alley, stow it in the garage. There was a lot of it, but not enough to call it hoarding. He used it, and if it got too much, would get rid of the excess without a problem. A pattern I see in myself.

I rolled the cart full of lumber to the garage and unloaded the splintery wood with many nails into the garage, struck by how like my father this all was. Suddenly, it felt like a gift from him, a gesture to say he finally understood that this resourcefulness was one of the few parts of him I genuinely liked, not something for him to be ashamed of. On Memorial Day. I counted the pieces, there were 23.

I took the cart back to the store, feeling the whole way like I had to explain that I did not take it in the first place.

Wood will come in useful for the raised beds.

Outside

Gorgeous day, cats both taken out. Two new neighborhood cats seen, one very friendly this morning. Moby went nose to nose, then turned and groaned. I shooed that one off, protecting my own cats' territory. Another this afternoon, taking a crap by the dianthus, not noticed by Moby. Too much free dirt attracting them, I think. Neighbor accidentally startled Eleanor, and she bolted with great energy, but the harness held. Which is why we got that one for her.

Getting that Sunday afternoon, long dark teatime of the soul, and I still have tomorrow off. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be at work. For one thing, I'd be the only person there. I'm really not sure what to do with myself another day. And as of Friday, there is nothing on the schedule for next Friday. Meaning, I may work only two days this week. Those two day will likely be long, and breakless.

Sprayed the weeds on the driveway with the 20% acetic acid, which worked very well. Still have to rake away the debris, but it's all quite dead. Turned the compost heap that was smelling of ammonia, due to too much of the wheat litter. Added shredded paper, turned it well, watered it down, it's better.

Sat outside a good bit. Enjoying having a porch.

Mopey

Moby seems mopey, sleeping in the back bedroom. Comfortable enough, dark and alone though. He has been out twice, if not as long as usual. He sulked all morning because it rained, and rained, and rained. So, I brought him in to the sunlit chair. After a bit of grumbling, he had to admit I had a point.

So much rain is lovely for all the green stuff. Including the weedy verge. Mowed it so it looks tended, at least. Get less trash dropped that way.



Same issue, something eating the hell out of the sunflowers again this year. No idea what. Got the snail numbers down with caffeine. Coffee grounds and egg shells and diatomaceous earth mixed with sand as well. I'm stumped. This year, though even on the north side, the sunflowers are holding their own. Huzzah!

Season

Tis the season, when life commences. At least, life after high school/college. And according to some rules derived by reverse engineering, I will attempt an essay, not a damn speech.

I avoided graduation ceremonies all my life. Attended both my brothers' graduations from high school, talk about dull. I had to attend my own, and it was shameful. In church, a large church, the only space to fit the whole class and family, parents and their photographers were in front of us students, and scrambling over the altar, making it anything but ceremonial. My name was omitted by the principal for the National Honor Society list. I told her this when she handed me the diploma, which at least kept her from pulling me in for an unwanted hug, as she'd done to the nine people before me. Fiasco was the word that stuck in my mind throughout the ordeal. Especially considering said principal made "walking down the aisle" for graduation, or taking it away from us, the carrot and stick to silence dissent or misbehavior among the seniors. Even then, it wouldn't have mattered to me, but my parents seemed to want it so badly.

I had to attend graduation from Basic, in dress greens, horrible shoes, standing mostly at attention throughout. It was dignified, though, give it that. Marching back, shivering through the frosty air, I again promised myself to avoid such ceremony ever after.

When I graduated nursing school, I had no intention, ever, of attending mine. Some of my classmates were aghast, assuring me I would regret it. Hasn't happened yet. I did attend D's graduation, as did many friends. It wasn't bad, and I was glad to be there for him. Still hope there aren't any more.


So, my experience of commencement speeches is of the Valedictorian high school student talking in articulate but predictable phrases, some brass going on about being a soldier, and another long-winded guy in a gown who got cheered when he finally finished because he finally finished.


And here I have gone on so long I'd really better essay in another post. Fine. Just fine, then.

Here is the list from the video that I will try to twist.

Remind them how old you are

Lower expectation

Follow their hearts

Remind them it’s not easy

Tell ‘em a secret

Be profound

Keep them humble

(See below)

Commence

(Remind them how old you are)

Don't listen to anyone just because they are older than you. This includes this statement. If I've been down the road you are starting out on, I may be able to lend you a map. Chances are, though, you will be on a different path, going in a different direction, and all I'll be doing is confusing you. Not to mention, I was 33 when I graduated, and felt old. I am here now, with no sense of being older. It's all illusion, now is still now.

Age does not grant wisdom. Rather like school, it's only the opportunity for you to teach yourself. More years just means more chances, which many people squander. Just by looking, it's hard to tell which ones. Simple success, the trappings of money, position, acclaim, are no guarantee of comprehension. Luck plays a huge part. Getting older is inevitable, only avoid dying.

But when you get along in your own years, you may well want to share your insights with those younger than yourself as well. Keep it short.

Or just reassure those who are on their second decade that progress often takes longer than expected. There is no script, there are no guarantees, you may have the wrong map. Despite what the student loan letters tell you, the most expensive lessons don't come from them.

They come in that shattered moment when you get a phone call in the middle of the night, or you have to call your spouse to say you've broken yourself, or your child's doctor approaches you with a grim face. There's been a fire, the police are at your door, the universe has upended on you. This is when you find out who you really are, who you love, what really matters. These, not graduations or weddings or celebrations.



(Lower expectation)

You can do better than you fear. You must take what you get, and treasure it. Nothing is certain except that discontented pickiness will ruin your life no matter how well you do. Be grateful for what really matters, food, health, roof, job, friends, love. Really grateful. Take none of it for granted.


(Follow their hearts)

Don't dream a dream, follow your hearts, wish upon stars. Get your hands dirty, do the job in front of you, and wake up. Dream jobs and dream homes and dream loves, will all include nasty bosses, and broken sewer pipes and diarrhea.

This is your life you are working for, and the weeds and scrapes, leaks and stinks, are part of it, not to be avoided. Take pride in how you handle the worst days, that's where we live, that is what counts. The vacation, the smooth water, that's just to give us a chance to gather our wits, breathe for a bit, then off we go again. Enjoy it all.

You will learn far more as you go, from each experience, than you ever have from dreaming or theorizing.

Just, don't cultivate chaos. Drama is for the stage, keep the reality, the one inside, balanced. Take care of the paperwork immediately, never put off the prep work.

(Remind them it’s not easy)

I remember being told these are the best years of your life. And all I could think was, this is as good as it gets? Being a kid, having no say, sucked. For those of you with happy families, this may not ring true. For those of you coming out of less privilege, or just less emotionally functional backgrounds, which I suspect is the majority, get help. Get help now, get help when flotsam surfaces when you are 30 or 50, whenever you find yourself flailing, get help. If you break a bone or rupture a spleen, you get medical help. If your heart has holes from the people who should have loved you, tried and failed to love you, or just failed you, and one day you fall into that hole, get help.

If your parents are still trying to run your life, don't consider this a favor. Do what you need - to be the adult in your own life, it's the only one you get, firmly, politely, kindly, without blame or anger, absolutely live it.

If you are living your authentic life attentively, it should feel wonderful, satisfying, exhausting and vibrant all together. Hard is not the main component, just the struts.

(Tell ‘em a secret)

There is no secret to life, only a lot that has to be lived to be understood, and is impossible to put into words. Although everyone keeps trying.


(Be profound)

Anger and blame are choices, and are always bad ones. Choices like heroin, they feel good in the moment, then take your soul in the end. If you believe nothing else, believe this. Or, don't believe, check out the research, even better.


(Keep them humble)

Some of you need to be reminded you are not perfect, you don't know how much you don't know. Eh, enjoy it, won't happen often. Some of you need to be reminded that you actually know a lot more than you think, and with a little practice, you will be fine. Just remember, stupid people overestimate their intelligence. Smart people underestimate it. Adjust accordingly.

Forward in all directions.

Crawl

Eleanor goes in her harness, and I pick her up to take her out. I expect it feels funny. She stays low, but seems to enjoy the air, all the smells, rolling on the sidewalk, then nestling under the bush beside the wild parsley. She does do the low-crawl the whole time. Still, easy to pick her up and bring her back in, she just goes limp. Funny cat.



Found a few more plants, poppies and another flower I can't recall. The long grasses are looking well. Need to water soon, sunflowers don't seem to care. They've quite taken over, as the lemon balm inhabits that southeast corner, and welcome to it. Green onions and little red onions, thyme and veronica, a litany of green life. The experiment continues.



Smattering of rain this evening. A long weekend ahead. Work was six fast cases and a lot of frustration with the new system, from me, and from the surgeon. However, I got a lunch, so I could cope. Normally, we do get a full lunch break, 45 minutes. It's a matter of being short staffed and busy that has been biting us, and will continue to gnaw for a while. Might not have any cases at all next Friday, so one just has to roll with it.

Appreciate

Best bits of life are not what we plan, or hope for, but what happens, that we appreciate. I could not have imagined this life, this house, this guy, these cats, this job, this place, when I was young and thought acting would be a viable life for me. It wouldn't have been, for every imaginable reason, and for reasons I would never have considered at the time. Like, that I hated being looked at, hated fuss, being told what to do, couldn't memorize lines of simple poems, hated being judged, putting myself out there. Among others. Imagine if I'd had any talent, how miserable I would have been with failure or success.

Never knew how much I would love science, if only I'd understood my difficulty with numbers. How much, after years of moving about, how much I would love stability. How much I would simply love one guy who simply loves me. How much the internet would feed my mind, and heart and soul - when looked at from a certain point. Art, friends, humor, writing, information, all right there.

Beyond imagining, what I would come to hold most dear.

It has become obvious that Eleanor loves D, but I am her person. Just as Moby loves me, but D is his. We had no choice in the matter, obviously.

Very busy day, all rooms running, no staff for lunches, breaks, nothing. Even the charge nurse - who usually runs things, and can cover a break, was instead, circulating a room. When my room finished, I relieved another nurse who was in on her day off, and had to take her daughter to a soccer game. When that room came down, I gave breaks in the other two rooms, and gave our charge a fast turnover. Offered to relieve her, so she could just charge, but she declined. The other two rooms finished soon after anyway. The surgeon in that room let his fellow work for a while, and HE circulated, so she could get the rest of us out for 10 minute "stuff food in" breaks.

We are training more staff, but it's a slow process to get them up to speed. And we don't want to just stop the day for lunches, because then we'd just have to stay late. Nevermind, we have Monday off, and there are no cases scheduled so far for next Friday. Feast or famine, as the saying goes.

D has fed me. I just want to go sit and gaze at the garden for a while.

Visiter

D found a "young visiter" on the porch yesterday morning, on his way out. Friendly little cat, Eleanor's coloration, short fur, very hungry. He fed him/her, but before he could call animal control, cat had vanished. Reappeared about 9:30 PM, mewing madly. Hissing and growling at Eleanor in the window. I sat out with it, but the county asked us to keep visiter in a carrier. Then called back to say they didn't have anyone to send out until morning, could we manage that? Sure, sure.

I brought our overnight guest in, with minimal fuss. Poor thing knew what a carrier was, though. Freaked out when D brought Eleanor's carrier in. But we got cat in with minimal fuss. Once we knew they wouldn't be by until morning, we set up the guest room. Back porch, food, water, litter in a box. Eleanor VERY curious, Moby sure he did not like how this looked at all. Guest simply eager to eat.

Checked on our guest in the morning, so wanted to get out and explore. No dice, but more food consoled hard feelings. Officer came by. I took guest out to her at the truck, which bothered her, but cat was fine, if a bit trembly. Officer scoffed at my inability to tell if cat was male or female, but I saw no reason to get intrusive, and I can't tell at a glance. She also seemed to think the cat probably just got out.

Talked to Spike&Mike, our neighbors, this afternoon. He seems to think the cat got dumped, and sympathized with our having to call to have it taken in. Cat had been trying his house as well, but was put off by Spike's barking. That's how he got Spike, and cat Sebastian as well. This apparently is the kind of neighborhood where animals are dropped.

Both our house cats a bit edgy, irritated with each other. Balance upset. I made sure to take Moby out, basking in the sun probably helped.

I also swept up the mass of elm seeds, pulled weeds, cleared trash blown in, trimmed the red hedge, and generally cared for the outside.

Listlessness

Have decided to plant horseradish. Just gotta find some. Ready to let it battle it out with the weeds and vines and English Ivy invasives. D loves horseradish, I like it as well. We are eating cheddar & horseradish flavored chips now.

Watching a show about Crusades D found, but the lack of subtlety and simplifying of complexity, really got to him. Turned it off, over no objections from me. I have similar sensitivities about medical shows.

Green stuff coming up nicely, although we await some seeds who are being shy.

Sat out with Moby this evening, he basked among the grasses. Mild and warm, slight breeze. Both of us feeling a bit unwell the past few days, doing just what is needful. Food unappealing, listless, not sleeping well.

Apropos

There are times when I would not have entertained Toby in the woodshed, and others when I thanked my Maker I had him on my side. But with the years, I am pleased to notice, one settles to people.

- Secret Pilgrim, John Le Carre.

Weedy

The blinds' internal string broke. Thankfully, I have lots of pretty scarves. Brought it in to be fixed, likely to take a few weeks.




Thankfully, it's not hot, nor cold, so the insulating properties are not critical. Cats won't mind being able to see out. The blinds have been really good, but the stringless thing is less ideal. None of the rest have had any issue. Still, with external strings, there may have been more of a cat issue. Hard to be sure, of course.


Fair
79°F
26°C

Which is not terribly hot, in these parts. Low humidity and all. Mowed what grass there is on the verge, where the raised beds will be next year. So much organic mess, at the moment. Doing a little, not enough. Too much in the sun today, even being aware to be careful. One more task, just one more thing...


So much weeds.

Glass

Taking Eleanor out intermittently. Much more substantial harness than for Moby because he doesn't seem to notice it, and we trust him to hunker down. Her? Not so much. She nearly got out of this one, once. Today, she took a dust bath on the sidewalk, rolling luxuriously in the warm sun.



She took in all the aromas with apparent pleasure.

Got to a couple of moving/yard sales, very nice ones. Got a few yard tools, and mugs.

The red glass reminded me of a very old friend who collected green and red glass of this sort.



And of Ida, whom we both loved. She had a rough life, which her brilliance could not save her from. But she once went with her mother to Antarctica, and we always think of her when we see penguins. This seemed like a surreptitious gift from her via the universe. On the other hand, she may well have known the people whose yard sale this was in, it's not that big a town, especially when pared down to those who have visited Antarctica.



At the other house, they were moving, signs on the house, same agent who got us into this Home. Nice folks, retiring to Guatamala. Lovely house, too, D pleased to find an egg slicer, which he's wanted for a while.

Tourniquet

The charting change. Well, I knew the tourniquet page wasn't perfect, because it wasn't even there during the training. Sure enough.

Tourniquet charting involves pressure, time up, time down and total time, placement and padding. In orthopedics, they are used at least 95% of the cases. About once a week, we use them bilaterally, doing carpal tunnel releases on both sides is the most common, but sometimes it's both knees, feet, or a tissue graft taken from the opposite side of the consented surgery.

Today, we placed tourniquets on both legs for a bilateral case. I tried to mark the same, and got a box saying "The Procedure is BILATERAL." Yes, and I want to put tourniquets on both. No dice. Could not get past the message. Yeah, that's perfect. Thankfully, although placed, they were not inflated, so I left a note. On the next case, I found I could not document placing a cuff on the opposite leg, either. Which wasn't an issue today, but certainly could be. There was no option to override.

There also wasn't the option of adding a second cuff, nor a third. Admittedly rare, I have done a case with three tourniquets, not all at the same time, both hands, and a leg for a graft.

Cages were rattled, hopefully we will get this properly "built" soon. That it has not been done is just proof we didn't need that no one thought of us, or didn't listen when our people working with them told them what was needed. Not the only issue, but the most telling.

Pneumatic tourniquets, set to a specific pressure, all timed, keeps the blood out of the field during work, prevents more than minimal blood loss.* We keep the time minimal, over 120 minutes and the risk of tissue damage just from the pressure increases. Less than 60 minutes is more usual. Although there are not any good studies about what is really safe, under two hours seems to be. A carpal tunnel release tourniquet time runs about 5 minutes, sometimes less.

Going to be a long process, this new system.




*Which is still not as much as one might expect, even without one. A careful surgeon doesn't get a whole lot of bleeding, for elective orthopedic surgeries.

Sins

Considering the small sins, the ones that cause little or no harm, but are, really, not quite ethical.

No one wants a guest looking through their cabinets, but most of us indulge in nosing around at least a little. I stay away from looking at medications, precisely because it will tell me more than I have any business knowing. More than folks without any medical training. But lotions and potions? Fair game.

Rare are those who have never fudged even a little on their taxes. Or never shoplifted even one small item in their lives. Perhaps eaten a grape or two before paying for the bunch. Written on a bathroom stall, cheated on a mandatory but meaningless test, left the last inch of TP rather than replace the roll. A lie to a boss, or a parent.

I don't feel good about the overpriced leg warmers I accidentally* stole from the college bookstore, but I didn't take them back, either. When they fell apart within a month, I didn't really feel bad at all. Not to mention, I never wore leg-warmers again. Have never intentionally shoplifted.

We should not be proud of these lapses. We should try to not indulge again, but when we do, skip the guilt and just do better next time. Because we are not perfect, nor perfectible. A little moral wiggle room. Striving to be always honest, or at least silent, is the occupation of a lifetime. Knowing ourselves capable of dishonesty is important for growing our compassion. Shit to the fertilizer pile.


Call this the Ides of May post. Et tu?


*Really, just had them over my arm, forgot I had them until I was walking home. Cashier didn't notice, either.

Thumbs

Cats. Good friends to have around.

And have come back home, like Suika.

Thinned the sunflowers a bit. Something still eating them, but they are making good headway despite the predation. More coffee to put down, tomorrow.

Asked one of my hand guys about the sore and weak thumb. Give it another week, with lots of NSAIDS, ice, brace, then he'll do a shot if'n it ain't better. So, I stopped up to hand therappy, and they reattached the velcro - with rivets - and adjusted the thumb outlet that was bringing up a blister, cleaned it really well.

I've run out of May-ness. Down in the 30s three mornings running, cold, wet wind feels more like March. The charting changeover has been very rough, although not as bad as some were dreading, which is not saying much. I've been scrubbed in both days, which leaves me both relieved, since a lot of stuff will be fixed by Thursday, and slightly worried - that I won't be up to speed when most of the extra help is gone. With a whiff of transient guilt that everyone else is being thrown in the deep end, while I stay safe at the edge of the spray. Still, not my choice, I go where I'm assigned.

Moby walked over to Eleanor, bopped her, and walked away. She followed behind, sniffing. He sat, completely nonchalant, and she ceded the point. Just beautiful.

Bob

I hope they call him Bob.

Susan sent this link.



Got a card from D's mom last week, for Nurse's Week. For years she tried to wish me a Happy Mother's Day, and I deferred, demurred and outright contradicted her insistence that I was a kind of mother... so... .

No. I'm not. Because I don't want to be called a mother. I'm not one. I have an equal relationship with the people I care for. I'm not a parent, I'm a friend, or I'm a professional. Even she eventually stopped wishing me a happy mother's day. I didn't like it, I didn't thank her for it. Might as well wish me happy father's day, just as inaccurate and unwelcome. I rather resent the idea of any family love as being more worthwhile than non-kinship love. If anything, I think it's less, because it's so expected and accepted as preferred, assumed, unearned.

I don't care about nurses' week either, but at least it's precisely true. I've done the work, got the license, and however silly, I have to shrug and accept her little triumph. And I was D's mom's nurse, once, when she hurt her knee, and I did a little rule-out diagnosis* and wrapping, because she was in between insurance.

Hospitals tend to give nursing staff a little something, usually laughably little. The MGH watch, with logo, mine lasted about a month, although a few people managed to keep theirs going nearly a year before they broke. This year, I used the $15 visacard to buy good beer. The insulated lunch bag with the creepy smiley face, has a less certain future. The work gifts are always so cheap, better they just give cash, if anything at all.



*Not something I would do lightly or ordinarily, and always with cautions and care.

Damned

The elms rain down,
Their seeds to sprout.
Next year fine mesh,
To catch them out.



And they keep coming down, masses of the little buggers.


I did try, but the netting proved too wide. And early on, because the seeds had not begun to thicken the air, then. First year I found out about them. Second I knew when. Third year, my solution proved inadequate. Mesh too wide, too low as well, threatening to enmesh the pease and bean plants. Next year, a fine mesh, a frame, and the second week of May. I'll get it done next year, I hope, oh, I hope.


May elms be damned.

An 11 May poem.



One of those spring days that feels so much colder, the damp and wind insist and persist. We turned on the heater, and Moby hunkered near his warm friend.

Cats

We had a weird sort of yesterday, for a certain birthday. But a candle was lit, a song sung, and I made sure D knows how glad I am he was born.

We met his parents for lunch. Brought his mom some pepper plants, Fresno chili and an Anaheim chili, which will likely thrive on their poor soil and over-sunned yard. Wanted to get her Statice, but there was none to be found this year.

I don't really think of her as my Mother In Law, but as D's mom, and just as herself. The minimal difference in our ages, and that I was nearly 30 when we met, has, I think, been part of this easy dynamic. We never played roles, although early on she seemed to think I could make D do stuff she hadn't been able to make him do, like learn to drive, or go to church. I firmly declined, with unspoken astonishment, and she stopped trying. (D cannot be pushed, and I absolutely wasn't going to try.) She's also worked most of her life, and that tends to erase a lot of the generational differences. Working with people from 20-70, the numbers matter less. Partly, I'm sure, she's just that way, gentle and accepting, not apt to judge. We really don't have an MIL/DIL relationship, more of a warm acquaintanceship, a family-friendship, which doesn't describe it. We don't have a lot in common, but we like each other, and as long as D & I are happy, she expects nothing more. Never a whiff of criticism, ever.

Perhaps we both see in each other the soft exterior that covers a steel core. She raised five boys, she ain't no sissy.


Wet and chilly all yesterday, and today as well. Which isn't a bad thing, but it is a bit gloomy.

Today, all the chores we always put off on birthdays, laundry, sweeping, dishes. Pampering my thumb as we go.

Sat in the music room with D yesterday morning, Moby scrambled up on my lap before I had my feet up. Stretched out on my legs, as he does. Then Eleanor hopped up, gingerly settling on the stool by/on my feet. Moby sanguine about the whole thing, she didn't stay long, five minutes maybe. They did exactly the same this morning. A month ago, Moby would have been groan/growling at the intrusion.

D gets me tea and cereal, when I am so be-catted.


We're just glad our cats like us so much.

Goat

Lawn

The pink run, every year. As per.



Kill lawn, check. Onions, dianthus, sunflowers going mad. I get a lot of comments on the balanced rocks. Not sure why, it all seemed so obvious, to lay them atop each other.



Taking out the weeds surgically. As I would, of course.

Hounded

Something about getting into the dirt, after working in sterile.

My mother used to say, "Well, you look like you've been having fun!" when I would come in covered in grime. And I loved washing my hands and face when I could see the dirt, tell the difference. Because so often, I'd be told to wash, when I felt I looked just as clean before as after. I would get intentionally more dirty, just for the sake of a visible result.


I still get a bit of extra pleasure washing my hands of caked on, ground in, dirt.

For the last three days, I've spent too long too clean, and at work. Kept everything moving along, but I'm done, and my thumb aches madly. Wore the brace all day today, and the softer one tonight, and will no doubt keep it stabilized over the weekend. Poopie.

The rain over the last few days has been extraordinary, and the front garden luxuriates. Everything perkier. Today, an intense storm with hail, that stopped D from venturing farther, he had to shelter at a bus stop, and when a bus came along, he took it home. I was stuck at work, although I did get to see the huge black sky loom for a while, until my case started. Soaked in deep, and life responds.



Amazing watching Moby and Eleanor playing, chasing each other. Such a substantive improvement just over the past few weeks. They mirror each other, both moving, and curled on the bed together. D brought me dinner, and grated some cheese on top, attracting Moby, who occasionally likes a bit of good cheese. I gave him a pinch, when Eleanor, who is a cheese hound*, butted in. So she got a pinch as well. Leaving me with a mere smear. I had to go back and get more.


*Don't tell her I referred to her as a hound.

Silly

Oats pease beans and hail
hail the gang's gently down the
farmer in the dell.


May 9.

8 is gone, after a dozen hours a'runnin'.

Lefty

When two people are all wound up, can they hold each other and turn anti-clockwise? Will it help?

What happens when your eyes are earritated? Can your ears get eye-itated?

In this list of three, I have only two items. Sue me.



May 7th, tribute.

Photo-op

From the professional shoot. She took two of Moby for her own interest.

Translate

Took Moby out for his meander. Woman walking by said hi, and admired the emerging sunflowers. Then noticed the white powder all over the north side. I assured her it was diatomaceous earth and eggshells, not at all toxic, quite safe. Moby continued to eat grass.

I took out a Moby for his meandering. The woman said the high-tech walking, praise emerging sunflower. Then, a white powder was noticed on the north side of all. I guarantee a very safe, it is not harmful of all, she was a shell of the egg and diatomaceous earth it. Moby continued eating grass.

I took a Moby for his tortuous. The woman said that the way high-tech, praise sunflower emerging. Then, a white powder was noticed on the north side of all. I guarantee very safe, it is not harmful of all, she was a shell of egg and diatomaceous it. Moby has continued to eat the grass.

I want to take Moby spiral. The woman said that the way sunflower high-tech, emerging praise. Then, a white powder was observed on the north side of everyone. I guarantee a very safe, not harmful of all, it was a shell eggs and diatomaceous it. Moby has continued to eat the grass.

I would like to take Moby circle. She said that the way the sunflower high-tech, emerging compliment. Then, a white powder was observed on the north side of everyone. I guarantee a very safe, harmless of all, it is the egg shell and diatoms it. Moby continue to eat grass.

Moby I want to get to the apartment. He said the high-tech way of sunflower, is developing a compliment. Later, a white powder was observed on the north side of everyone. I highly secure, all harmless, and diatom studies guarantee that the egg shell. Moby continue to eat grass.

Moby I want to get an apartment. He means the high-tech of sunflowers, to develop a compliment. Later, it was observed the presence of white powder on the north side of everyone. Studies I highly secure, all harmless, and ensure that the diatom shell of the egg. Moby continues to eat grass.

Japanese, Italian, Welsh, Malay, Turkish, Arabic. May World Tour, #6.



Or,

Moby took out his putter. Woman walking by and said hello, and was impressed sunflower emerging. Then I noticed a white powder all over the north side. And assured her that she was diatomaceous earth and eggshells, and not at all toxic and completely safe. Moby continued to eat grass.

Simple

This is Farmgal.

SALT LAKE CITY — Perhaps French poet, journalist and author Anatole France put it best: "Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

A part of (Farmgal)'s soul was awakened by her cat, Tootsie, who went missing five years ago. Though (Farmgal) gave up the official search for her cat, she said a part of her always held out hope that she would find Tootsie.

When (Farmgal) saw the No-Kill Utah Adoption Weekend Facebook event page Saturday, she scrolled through nearly 600 pictures of animals before she saw Tootsie.

"I started to cry, and I don't think I've stopped till now," (Farmgal) said Saturday afternoon.


Other than some arthritis in her paws, Tootsie was healthy and seemed eager to be home.

"She grabbed onto me and would not let go. For having no claws, she had a pretty good grip," (Farmgal) said.

This was all I could come up with after ten hours standing scrubbed in today. Still, not my usual kind of post, so I'm counting it as May Theme 5.

Bop

Playfight starting. No one hissed, no tails got bushy, both took turns being IT. In the cat version of the game, this is the preferred role. They are back asleep on the bed together. I think we have reached Usual.

Brushed a kitten's worth of fur off Eleanor this weekend.


Oh, and I've been coloring.

Rummaging

Space Food Hall of Fame, from Museum of Online Museums MOOM.)





Forth May Theme posting. I'm sure it's down there somewhere.