Suddenly September

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was bored with summer. Nothing to do, too hot to go outside, I started looking for a job. That's how serious it had gotten.

Now, I can't seem to keep my desk cleared, the emails from piling up, keep up with my diary, or post to my blog.

Although, I am getting pretty close to finishing this . . . .

Modeled by the beautiful and elegant JW.

And for some inexplicable reason, I waited until it was 110 degrees outside to embrace baking. First, I cleaned the oven which filled the house with hot air. Then, I learned to cultivate a sourdough starter. Since then, I have made sourdough bread, rye bread, biscuits, and countless cookies. Also, I knit blankets.

"You live in a desert," my granddaughter helpfully pointed out.

Yes, but I won't get any use out of a sweater, hat, or scarf. At least, I can cuddle under a blanket in the cooler evenings a couple months from now. 

That is, if I'm not cleaning the oven.

Is it bigger than a breadbox?

"Why do you put your bread in the microwave?" my grandchildren ask, looking for signs of dementia.

"Because I don't have a breadbox," I answer.

They stare blankly, then ask, "What's a breadbox?"

I can't help but smile at the obvious answer, "It's a box you bread into."

They think I must be crazy or from another planet. "But why?"

Frankly, I don't know. "That's how my grandmother kept her bread."

I suppose I could just keep it on the counter but that would look messy. Breadboxes, if they exist at all, are rare and would make my kitchen counters appear cluttered. (Keep in mind, I keep my coffee maker in the laundry room for this very reason.) Other people keep bread in the refrigerator but aficionados argue that dries the bread out while keeping it in the pantry can potentially promote mold (if there is enough heat and humidity).

Meanwhile, the microwave is a cool, dark, and airtight place to store bread and recommended by King Arthur Baking Company in "The Best Way to Store Yeast Bread." In fact, that's all I use my microwave for: storing bread. Ditto for the oven in my RV back when I used to own one. I never used the oven for cooking and it made the perfect place to store bulkier items like bags of chips in a kitchen without much storage space.

So that, dear children, is the reason I put my bread in the microwave.

It just makes sense.

By the way, "Is it bigger than a breadbox?" was a standard question in the game 20 Questions back in my day. Which is to say, we are old enough to know what breadboxes are. (Also, the game of 20 Questions.)

April cannot come soon enough.

If your husband is like mine, he has trouble remembering what day it is. Usually, all he has to do is take a look at his pill box but if he's forgotten to take his meds, then he's thrown off and he has to ask me.

That's why I recommend Day of the Week Boxer Shorts. Of course there is a downside. You may find your husband occasionally looking down the front of his pants to figure out the day of the week. I can think of more than one circumstance when that might be awkward if not inappropriate. Think about dinner with your mother. Or passing by a schoolyard.

But there is an upside. You can mix up his underwear drawer for April Fool's Day. 

That will really mix him up.

Summer out West

 

I never paid much attention to “fire season” except to whatever was in the news. But it turns out there are far more fires than I ever heard about. It’s wild and a little bit scary how much of the country is on fire although nearly all of it is west of the Rockies.

In the fall of 2020, we were moving from the Portland area to Southern California and we were driving our one car plus a van with everything we hadn’t sold. There was a fire raging just south of Portland at the time and, unbelievably, we were allowed to drive right through it. The smoke and flames were so dense that visibility was near zero. It’s as close to what I can only imagine that entering the Gates of Hell is like. 

Imagine driving into flames that are so dense there are no flames, only color. The sky and the air all around us was orange mixed with smoke that was all encompassing like a dark cloud. I don’t know how it’s possible that I-5 remained open and people were allowed to travel through the area. Nevertheless, we emerged on the other side, and made it safely to our destination.

Not everyone was as lucky, however. When we stopped for the night, the hotel was full of people who’d had to evacuate, many who lost literally everything but their lives.

More recently - just a few weeks ago - there was a 50-acre fire just four miles from our home. As neighbors started noticing the smoke, text chains were set up to share information. Many of us downloaded the Watch Duty app for updates, which included evacuation notices. While we were never put on notice, the neighborhood just across the street from us had been ordered to immediately evacuate. It was scary to think about the possibility of losing our homes and made the devastating loss of life and property due to previous fires all too real.

Stay safe out there, especially if you live out West. And be diligent not to start any fires. 

Consider this:

The number one cause of residential fire is unattended cooking. 

The number one cause of woodland fire is humans.

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?