Taking the helm!

We went boating for four hours and the dog was fine. She neither puked (as she had earlier after eating something she shouldn't have out in the yard) nor had any trouble holding her bladder for the entire cruise. We, on the other hand, did.

There was no toilet on the boat we rented and there was no way to get into the lake because there was no way to get out of the lake; the swim step wasn’t something you could easily pull yourself onto and there was no ladder. But, there was a 5-gallon bucket which was provided by the rental company for depositing trash. My sister-in-law and I locked eyes. We both knew what that bucket was really going to be used for.

I (aka Tiny Tank) was the first to need it. The place we rented the boat from told us to stay out of coves and to not dock anywhere. I couldn't get in the water and there was no way to hang my back end over the rail. (Not the mention the lake was crowded with other boaters. Can you imagine the scene?) My only option was the bucket. But the boat we rented was a “party barge” with absolutely no privacy. The most secluded place for the bucket was in front of the captain’s chair and behind controls.

Everyone aboard looked off to the horizon while I “took the helm.”

I rinsed the bucket with lake water and we all pretended that that didn’t just happen.

But then the captain needed to “take the helm.” One by one, we all "took the helm" during our four hour tour.

Disgusting? Yeah. Necessary? 100%.

Meanwhile, the dog was fine.

July is Sarcoma Awareness Month

I don't want to be aware. I wish it didn't exist and I wish I never had it.

Sarcomas account for 1% of cancers in adults. I had it less than three years ago and I'm aware of it every time I have to go back for scans.

And because of this post, I'm aware of how deadly sarcomas are. Not that I wasn't aware before but writing this post forces me to remember. It's scary af.

I spent the summer of 2022 getting radiation, driving 35 miles round trip, daily, for five weeks. In October, I had a mass removed from my leg that measured four inches at its longest point and weighed about 6 ounces. Recovery was interesting. 

I was in a heavy leg brace for a week which prohibited me from bending my knee. Let me tell you, that made going to the bathroom an event. I also had to tote around a drain bag and a wound pump with me everywhere I went. I had to sleep with all of this equipment as well. I was issued a walker and a cane when I was discharged from the hospital and checked into a nearby condo.

During the week that followed, it was my mission to walk. Hubby urged caution but with his help, I accomplished my goal of walking across the street, toting all of my equipment, for a cup of coffee before my first week's convalescence was through.

For the first couple of years, I had to go back every three or four months for scans and checkups. I'm still going but with less frequency - only twice a year now.

And I'm still walking. I think that's what gets me through stressful times, including cancer. Both times. (I had breast cancer in 2019.) The point is I can walk. I'm alive and I still have my leg. (Amputation used to be the cure.) 

I celebrate my survival by walking. Since becoming cancer free, I have walked and finished three half marathons. (I trained for a fourth but wasn't able to participate in the event.)

Unbelievably, two other members of my family have had sarcomas as well. I am far too aware of it. The thing of it is, everyone is aware of some kind of cancer one way or another. If you want to be more aware of sarcomas, you can start with the Sarcoma Foundation of America. (If you want to be more aware of my particular sarcoma, look up Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma.)

If you want to donate, please do. But I'm not going to ask you to because you've probably donated to some other cancer-related organization already. I know I have.

Cancer is the second leading cause of death in the United States. We're all too aware.

And now you're aware of sarcomas. You're welcome.

Meanwhile, celebrate what you can, however you are able, with the people you love. Move forward and do what you can to help in the cure for cancer. All cancers.

Leaving the Nest

We were gone for a few days to Big Bear Lake, home of the famous eaglets, Sunny and Gizmo. When we got home, our own "eaglet" (an unnamed baby hummingbird) had grown. It was sitting up in the nest but still appeared to be lacking the full plumage needed to fly. Slightly bald, if you will.

Perhaps I was mistaken because the next day, the little bird flapped its wings a little as if trying out the idea that they might be used for something other than just sitting around. 

And, then it was gone amid a short time of distraction. While houseguests arrived and got situated, the nest appeared to have been vacated. 

Later, we saw a hummingbird back at the nest but there was considerable debate as to whether this was the mother or the baby.

Today, there is nothing.

I feel a little jilted. I had spent weeks watching the nest and the accumulation of poop below. (This, was on a cover to a propane fire pit which was not in use and won't be until the weather is cooler.) I took pictures, although none turned out well, and peered closer with small binoculars. I tiptoed past the nest when I needed to get to the back yard, trying to be respectful of the young life taking place on our patio - rent free.

It's probably rare to catch the exact moment when a hatchling takes flight for the first time so it's not fair for me to be disappointed even though I'm left with the task of cleaning up the mess left behind. What's worse, is we have a new tenant that is larger and - dare I say - rather disgusting.

I don't know what it is and don't want to. Just don't have any babies on my patio. Okay, pal?

We have a baby!

A baby hummingbird, that is. 

I've been posting about our non-eaglets, not in Big Bear: A hummingbird had build her nest on our patio in a most precarious place. She built it on the loop of a ribbon which was hanging from the pull chain of a ceiling fan. It took her some time to make it stable as it kept sliding off the ribbon and was hanging literally by threads from the pull chain. Eventually, though, she got it reinforced and ready for eggs.

Because it is near to the ceiling and I don't have an extendable camera stick, I couldn't get very good pictures of the nest or of its contents. Nevertheless, I assumed if a hummingbird was going to build a nest anywhere, it was for the purpose of laying eggs so I left her to her work.

She spent a lot of time coming and going while building the nest and then she just nested. She sat in her nest in what appeared to be uncomfortable positions. There were two distinct positions: One was with her back arched so her beak and her tail feathers pointed to the ceiling; the other was with a straight spine with her beak and tail feathers in a horizontal line.

And then, she was gone for large chunks of the day. I was starting to think I had it all wrong. Either she had built her forever lodgings and hadn't laid any eggs or maybe her eggs didn't survive.

However, about a week or so ago, I noticed our hummingbird perching on the edge of the nest while thrusting her beak into the nest. It looked like she was feeding a baby, except we couldn't see whether or not there were any baby birds in the nest.

Other times she would sit in the nest and point her slightly open beak in the air and tilt her head side to side rhythmically. Was she listening for something? Was she searching for a scent?

Finally, I got my first glimpse of a tiny bird's head, beak thrust upward, visible just over the lip of the nest. But, for the most part, the baby stayed well inside the nest while the momma bird was gone for long stretches of time.

Today, I saw them both - momma and baby - in the nest. They were both seated in the nest with their beaks slightly parted, their heads moving side to side. Was she teaching her baby to do this? What purpose does this serve?

Now, I can see the baby alone in the nest with only its head visible from my vantage point. It has its beak in the air, slightly parted, and is tilting its head side to side like its momma taught. I can only see one head although most of the information I'm finding online suggests hummingbirds lay clutches of two eggs.

It could be a couple more weeks before the baby is ready to fly. I just hope I get to see it!

If you want to see how tiny the nest and baby hummingbirds are, here's a video. The birds in this video don't look like the birds on my patio but you'll get the idea.

I'll keep you posted on this very tiny cycle of life.

Say It Isn't So

The premier source of inspiration for procrastination, and the ultimate waste of time, faces a nearly eminent shutdown. The Chief Inactivist of the blog "76003.1414" (where one can enjoy "world-class work avoidance" among other things) has announced his desire to take a much needed nap.

76003, in its current form, originated in 2005. However, its inception dates back to1998, before the word "blog" even existed. In 2009, it became the inspiration for the blog "back(b)log" which is a mostly defunct site originally created to chronicle one person's journey with back pain. That blog led to two others. This one, "Chocolate Chip Mint" (started in 2010), and "Beer Here" (2017). These three blogs, combined, have not equaled the success of 76003 with roughly 450,000 total hits compared to 1.66 million.

76003 has mostly been a news blog or, rather, a running commentary on the news of the day. It has also been a place where stories from long ago were memorialized (sometimes with audio recordings by the Chief Inactivist himself), photos were posted, and contributions from correspondents throughout the world and beyond were shared. It's been both funny and insightful.

I happen to know the author and Chief Inactivist of 76003.1414 quite well and I know he is a wonderful storyteller, historian, tech guru, and an intelligent commentator on the news, politics, and events of the day. He is also a man who has done an exceptional job of letting his family know that they are loved.

It's understandable that he's tired and grumpy from the state of things as they are today. While one can hope he will awake from his nap and declare 76003's closure was just a dream, one can also hope he spends his much earned time off to write his memoirs.

Onward.

Here, hold my salad!

 . . . is never the start of a great story.

Case in point: Hubby said to me the other day, "Here, hold my salad!"

We both bust a gut laughing because everyone knows, a really great story never begins with that. I thought, "I need to write about this!"

The next morning I found the note I left for myself which read, "Here, hold my salad!" I asked Hubby, "What happened after that? I can't remember."

"Nothing," he answered. "I just needed to free a hand to dig the car keys out of my pocket."

And there you have it: No great story ever starts with "Here, hold my salad!" even if a story really does start with "Here, hold my salad!"

What’s my dream job?

I was with a group of women when this questions was asked by way of an icebreaker. The idea was introduce yourself and tell a little something about yourself. 

It reminds me of a time when we were with our sister-in-law (who, coincidently, has both my first and last names). We were in a small bar. So small, that it was impossible not to get to know your fellow drinkers.

We might not have been on our first beer when my sister-in-law proposed that we should ask everyone in the bar three questions:

1) What was your first job?

2) Have you ever been fired?

3) What's your go-to karaoke song?

The most interesting answer came from a woman who was dressed in a bathroom having just come from the hot tub. She started signing Adele or some such thing and blew our minds. She was amazingly talented.

Now the question was, "What is your dream job?" And I was seated to the left of the person who asked it.

If I had answered first, I might have said "Ninja." I was relieved when someone a few seats to my left volunteered the first answer.

The sad truth is that I wanted to become an accountant at a very young age and I became one. Not very exciting.

Everyone else in this group of women picked exciting things like singer, dancer, actor, or film producer.

I was nearly the last to answer and said, "Writer." Humorist, if you wanted to be specific. 

I think the truest answer would be "Extrovert" if that was a job. Singer, Dancer, or Actor - even Ninja - would be roles that would require a certain projection of self which, generally, is not my bag. Thus, it would be a dream of mine to be able to do any of those things. Writer is the closest I can get to expressing myself but, really, that is a solitary endeavor. I can be seen and unseen at the same time. It's safe.

Being an introvert is part of what made me a good accountant. I wasn't a CPA and I didn't deal with people. I just dealt with numbers. 

Being an introvert makes me a good long distance walker/runner/biker. I like people but in the end I will go the distance alone.

New situations or situations that require that I put myself out there scare the crap out of me (although I have been known to sing karaoke from time to time. "Crazy" by Patsy Cline is my answer to Question #3, above.)

So, what's my dream job? I don't know. A ninja who writes funny things? I would like to be fearless when I walk in a room sometimes but other than that, I think I already have the dream job of just living my life.

Shout out to my sista-from-another-mister and my entire family and my friends for making my life meaningful. There's nothing better than that.