Dark and Stormy

It's raining out there, and it looks like we might get more all through the day. We can hope. The pond is receding from it's banks, and we're in the August Doldrums. Back to conserving water and praying for rain. Today, prayers have apparently been answered.

I puttered yesterday. Cleaning up, unpacking from my trip, taking care of details like birthdays and get-well cards. I chatted with daughter Juli about wedding cakes ("Just what IS the deal with the little plastic 1950's couple on top?" she wonders), and son Alex about financial planning, 401-k options, and the stock market.

I made a killer oven-sizzled Eggplant Parmesean for dinner (less fat than fried), and Bill ate it happily, despite its meatless nature. This is momentous. One of the "rules" has been that dinner must contain meat, and any attempts to move to a more vegetable-based diet have been met with complaints and proverbial heels dug in. Perhaps we have some hope of growth in this area after all. He says it's a textural issue, so perhaps thick slices of eggplant, drained and pressed, passed the meaty-mouthfeel test.

I find I still have the capacity to learn new tricks in the kitchen, and I still enjoy cooking, even if it is just for the two of us, or even just myself. The thrill of trying something new and having it turn out fabulous never pales. And yes, there are still plenty of kitchen failures. Bill eats them without making a face, bless his heart (though I usually find him eating cereal at midnight after said failure). Last night, he had seconds on the eggplant, and no cereal. So I count that as a success.

Today I will go over to Ray's and see what I can do to help with things like painting and moulding and little hardware jobs. He is almost done and ready to show the house for rental next week.
Tomorrow, Bill goes for his pre-boarding physical, so they must be getting ready to put him on a ship for four months. We expect he will be leaving sometime next week.

At last, a day at home!

I've been sitting here at the computer this morning, thinking about all the things I could do, but don't have to. I finally have a day to do exactly what I want, whatever that is!

Yesterday was insanely busy. I exercised on the elliptical and then showered. I went to Ray's new house and picked up the checkbook. I went to the newspaper office and placed an ad for the rental house. I went to the Shepherd's Center and inquired about donations. I went to the courthouse and voted, which took about 1 minute, but the visiting and courtesy talk took another 15. I picked up mail at the post office. I wandered about the Farmer's Market and bought cabbage, eggplants, peppers and cukes. That also entailed a fair amount of social interaction with the vendors. Then off to Ray's other rental house to make an appointment to do the final walk-through with the tenants on Friday. Then back to Ray's to drop off the checkbook.

Then I drove home, threw things in a bag, shovelled some Skinny Chili into my maw and packed up Bill for the drive to Kingsport. We did the lawyer thing. We went to Cartridge World and dropped off all our printer cartridges to be refilled. Then on to Home Depot, where we bought plastic chain for the rain gutter project, and wandered around picking up brochures on bathroom fixtures. Then to Walmart's optometrist to attempt to change Bill's eye appointment, but they were closed. Then back to Rogersville to Henard's Hardware for more gutter stuff.

My idea was to cook the eggplants for dinner, but that requires 2 hours of salting, soaking and pressing; Bill informed me on the way home that he was majorly hungry, and ready for dinner immediately. So I grabbed some steaks from the freezer and zapped them, scrubbed potatoes and made a salad while he lit the charcoal. After cleaning up and putting away, we sat down to watch Antiques Roadshow (I know, our lives are just too exciting).

I fell asleep on the couch.

Today, I may just do nothing.

Reality Check

I stepped on the scale this morning and discovered to my abject dismay that I have gained 15 pounds in the last 9 months. Probably about half of that is due to the recent Girlfriends Support Tour and my overindulgence in Columbus, but really, this can't be allowed.

My back hurts, my legs ache, and it's all due to lack of disciplined exercise and hauling around these extra pounds. I know what needs to be done, and now all I have to do is do it. So today, I will start--get back on the elliptical every day, stop eating like I'm in training for becoming a Sumo wrestler, and walk these Tennessee mountains, despite the heat and humidity. I've put it off long enough and the party is OVER!

Home Again and Back to Blogging!

Oh, it feels WONDERFUL to be home again! I loved the grand circle tour of Rogersville to Gettysburg to Columbus to Lexington to Rogersville, but it's great to be back on the mountain.

We had a surprise guest waiting in Gettysburg--Sue came down from Vermont along with Barb and Linda, so there were five of us at the two-day slumber party. We played pinochle, visited a winery, toured the battlefield (Anita's house is right ON the battlefield itself), shopped, lunched, cooked, laughed and otherwise just had a grand old time.

That's Anita's apartment, right under the awning. How cool to have cannon in your yard (Bill is so envious)!

My drive to Columbus started out in the rain, but on the way, I stopped at "Ron's Barrels" near Chambersburg and bought two 55-gallon plastic drums (formerly tomato paste containers) for Bill to make rain cisterns out of. All the way to Ohio, I was thinking of how to shop and stash in the car with those two big behemoths in the back. By the time I had the brilliant idea of stopping at a car wash and flushing them out, (and then putting my shopping inside the barrels), car washes became non-existent. Oh well. I really wanted to stay on budget this year anyway!

The Bee was fun, but exhausting as usual. It was great to see my basket buddies, preview the new products, and I even won a fabulous new purple handbag from the Prize Patrol! Knock me over, I never win anything! On Saturday, I checked out of the Hyatt very early and drove to the Homestead (about an hour west of Columbus), in the early dawn.

My route took me right by the home office:

I got my shopping done and was out of there headed east and south by 10:30 am. I stopped at cousin Jean's near Lexington, napped in the afternoon and had dinner with her and two friends, before falling gratefully into bed. I took off early in the morning and was home with Bill and Echo by 11. Both were happy to see me (I could tell--one was wagging, the other was hugging)!

It feels strange to have gone a whole week without blogging, but it's good to be back on that horse again. I missed my interior life of thinking and writing this past week (too busy drinking and eating and laughing?) and was too tired to do much but wander around in my jammies and take several naps yesterday. Now I can get back to my peaceful, happy life.

And yes, now I have to clean up the basement again, for it is again full of bags and boxes from my trip.

On the road again...

Last night we had terrific flashes of lightning and ear-booming crashes of thunder! Even without my glasses and through the window, it was an awesome lightshow.

Today is Day 6 after my tattooing last week--I can take a shower this morning! Yippee!

I talked to Anita last night. Barb and Linda arrived safely from NY and they have pinochle cards on the table, awaiting my arrival. I guess I'd better get going--I've got a card game to get to.

I'll catch up with y'all next week.

Roadtrip!

I do love me a good roadtrip. Tomorrow I will drive up good ol' I-81 to Gettysburg, PA, for a reunion of the NY Pinochle Team. These three ladies and I played cards more or less weekly for 15 years. Now, Anita's husband has decided to become a minister, so we're all packing up and meeting at their new place at his seminary school. We're calling it the Girlfriends Support Tour. Last year, the Tour came to my house in Tennessee--it's only right that we meet at Anita's new digs this year.

Then on Wednesday, I'll travel west to Columbus, OH for the Longaberger Bee. This is my annual Girlfriends Slumber Party with basket friends from East-Central Pennsylvania. I missed it last year, being on the west coast with my family. These great ladies were so supportive throughout my trauma last fall, I've just got to go and whoop-it-up with them this year. For three days, we'll eat too much, drink too much, shop too much and laugh all the time. On Saturday, I'll come back through Lexington, KY and visit with Bill's cousin Jean. Just 6 days of non-stop fun with my sisters. I think of it as necessary Mental Health Maintenance.

I wasn't really a girly-girl growing up, but I always had a good time with girlfriends. I was a scout from Brownies to Seniors, and some of my best times were camping trips, scout gatherings and the river trips down the Colorado with them. Later, in college and my twenties, I spent more time in male venues like the radio station and newspaper, and most of my friends were boys.

But when I had children, girlfriends again became ultra-important. We shared the trials and tribs of raising our little hellions. We laughed, we cried, we shared and eased each others' burdens. We were there for each other when parents died, when husbands went AWOL, when life got hard. I don't know what we would have done without the support of each other. So many times when Bill was away at sea, my friends came to my rescue, and I'd like to think I returned the love and support I received by being there for them when needed too.

When I was diagnosed, I couldn't have anticipated the incredible outpouring of love and support I got from my sisters. We really are all in this life together, and friends and family are what makes the troubles in life bearable, and the triumphs all the sweeter when shared. The fact that I'm "back" requires some group celebration. And as we continue on our individual journeys, we still want to be there for each other through the changes that continue to smack us around.

Today is packing day. I need to cut-down a pair of pajamas for summer use, (long sleeves and long pants-legs do not work in my current night-sweats persona) and throw things in a bag. Bill has already checked the car out and gotten everything in shape for the drive. He jokes that it's been so long since I took a trip without the dog, I'll be looking in the rear-view mirror for her ears sticking up, and think I left her at the last rest stop when I don't see her in the car.

I'll miss Bill (and yes, Echo too), but the pull of wanting to see my BFFs is stronger. I can't wait to get on the road.

Another Busy Day

We have been super grown-ups for the past two days, getting life insurance squared away, and driving to Knoxville to hire a new financial planner yesterday. Today a nurse will come to the house and give Bill his life insurance physical, and then we can go back to being non-thinking about the more serious details of life.

And joy of joys, knitting class is today! After that, I am going to have the tires re-checked before my big trip on Monday. There's a vibration there I'm not liking at all. And tonight, a big group of us is going out to dinner at the Pig 'n Chick to socialize.

What a whirl of activity. It makes me tired just to think about it. I'll have to schedule a nap in there sometime today so I don't get cranky tonight. What a wuss.

Pond-Scum Dog

Echo has developed a rather stinky habit of going into the pond lately. This from the dog who used to avoid stepping into a shallow puddle of water, wouldn't go out in the rain, and refused to swim.

Now on our daily walks, she splashes through the creek with abandon, sinks into mud up to her belly on the banks of the pond and tries to catch fish and frogs without a thought to getting wet.
She comes home each day with odiferous pond-pyuck up to her doggie armpits.

We've been keeping the mess at bay by making her step into a bucket on the porch and rubbing her down with a towel before letting her back into the house. But yesterday, she was just too dirty for a sponge bath; we had to wrassle her 80 pound bulk into the tub and do the full dog-bath ritual.

After she dried (and got over being mad), I brushed about a half-pound of dog hair off of her. This also had the added benefit of forcing me to vacuum the living room rug. And clean the tub.

Now she is sweet-smelling and sleekly brushed and the house is clean--which should last only until today's walk, when we'll start the whole cycle over again.

Getting ready for canning

On the way back from the mondo-bizarro tattoo parlor yesterday, Bill and I stopped at a U-Pick orchard and brought home a bag of peaches. The daily blackberry picking is filling up the freezer, the cucumbers are starting to take over the garden and I found the jars and the Ball Blue Book (Canning Bible) yesterday.

Plus, it's eleventy-billion degrees out there, so I guess it's canning season. The day the produce turns ripe and demands processing is always the hottest day of the year, in my experience. But a big Ha-ha! I have air-conditioning now! What a boon!

I was a canning fool in New York in the early years. After filling a basement cupboard to bursting, we made a rule that I couldn't put up more than what we could eat in a year. Now that there's just the two of us, that imperative becomes even more restrictive and necessary.

But with the price of food spiralling upward, it makes sense to me to preserve whatever "free" food we have access to. And it's things we will eat on a regular basis: Pickle Relish, Bread & Butter Pickles, Blackberry Jam, Cherries for Pie, Applesauce, Peaches and Pears. All it costs is sugar and my time.

There is something so vicerally satisfying to me about making pickles, making jam, and putting it in all those sparkly little jars. I'm ready for whatever comes in the future. Whatever happens, we will have something delicious to eat.

The "End"

Today is a milestone of sorts: the end of my bionic breast reconstruction. Of course, there never really is an ending to the whole experience, what with checks every three months, ongoing monitoring of my status, medication for at least the next 4 1/2 years, and the probable necessity of further encapsulotomies because of my overactive scar tissue. But if there is an end to them fussing with the cosmetic aftermath of my mastectomy, I guess today is the day.

Today, my bionics will be tattooed to look "normal." This is so weird to me, on so many levels, it just boggles. Like everything else in this Pam Soap Opera, it's just one more smack of the surreal.

Before I got the starring role in this particular drama, I'm absolutely sure I never thought about what actually happened to women who had breast cancer, mastectomies or reconstruction. It never occurred to me that breasts & nipples could be fashioned out of skin, muscle and silicone implants, and that tattoos would color the aureoles (interestingly, the same color, same texture, as one's lips). And yet here I am, a walking poster child to the miracles of modern plastic surgery.

It's fine, miraculous really, in the abstract; but who would really want to go there, given the choice? That is the point, of course--my choices were limited to reconstruction or no reconstruction, and I'm not sure I even gave the no reconstruction option any thought at all. I just assumed that I would have some kind of reconstruction, and this is what was available, this is what I got.

As in, "I had a double mastectomy and all I got was this lousy T-shirt (and what fills it)."

So, one foot in front of the other, I have just plodded along the whole process as an act of faith, trusting that the surgeon knew what step was next, and trusting that eventually this Brave New Bod would become less strange, less alien. I'm not there yet, not at all.

But I go, and I submit, because that is what is next. And maybe sometime in the future, it will be all right.

Time to Clean Up...Again...

I had a lovely day of lazing around, and this time, Bill was gone long enough for me to miss him! I was actually glad to see him and Ray show up for venison dinner last night. Because it stays light out well towards 9 pm, we got started on our list of projects afterwards.

We went looking for the "Glue Box" down in the basement together. We know we have a bottle of Gorilla Glue, perfect for Bill's latest home improvement project. When Mom was here, she put all the glues in a box. So where is that box? We never did find it.

Then Ray asked if he could borrow Bill's pipe cutter. "I have a pipe cutter?" asked Bill.
"Yeah, I saw it down in the pile by the dryer," said Ray. "Sure," said Bill, "if you can find it, you can borrow it."

I know that pile. It's right next to the pile of tools brought back from my dad's garage, which is next to the pile of paper trash waiting to go to the dump--which is next to the towering pile of boxes waiting to be broken down and flattened for future use, and the pile of paper used for packing eBay boxes. Then there's the pile of Christmas stuff boxes, next to the pile of fabric and sewing and crafts boxes, and the pile of I-don't-know-what's-in-those-boxes, left over from the move and waiting for a permanent home.

This is our disorganized life. We are terrible people.

I absolutely hate the clutter. I abhor not being able to find what I'm looking for. In my perfect world, I would have a place for everything, and everything would magically return to its appointed place after being used. Instead of ending up on the dining room table. Or the floor.

In my perfect world, we would own just one hammer--not the six we actually own, having gone out in frustration and bought another, because we couldn't find one. Or the caulking guns. Everytime I need to caulk something, the caulking guns go missing. All 13 of them, each purchased in the throes of need-to-caulk-now-and-can't-find-the-gun.

Of course, when I'm looking for, say, a set of hex keys, all I find are multiple caulking guns. No hex keys, but plenty of hammers.

I buy organizing bins and put tools and household stuff in them. For a few months, life is good, objects are able to be accessed, and I am religious about putting things back. Then, my natural laziness reasserts itself and things start to go missing. An organized box full of all the glues gets moved and I forget where I moved it to. Things get piled onto things and everything sifts downward, never to be seen again.

Today, I vow to spend some quality time down there, swamping out the debris and at least clearing a path through the detritus.

And maybe the Glue Box will magically appear, if I dig and re-shuffle enough. It's worth a shot.

So Much For My "Alone" Day...

Bill left on his trip at about 11 am. I saw him off down by the pond, where I was picking blackberries (again!) and wished him a happy journey. Echo and I trudged back up to the house and puttered about. I turned the A/C on full blast, and turned on the fans. I set out some chick-flick movies to watch later. I took a nap. Ah, solitude!

I woke to the sound of someone banging around in my house. Bill? Did I sleep round the clock until Sunday afternoon? No. Bill had trouble with the motorcycle in Kingsport, so he turned around and came home. He declared that it was cold in the house, turned up the thermostat, turned off the fans and parked himself on the couch to watch All-Time Top Ten Tanks (and presumably, The Men Who Love Them...), flipping from that to the Hitler Channel (which I call Hitler's Favorite Recipes) and back again. Sigh. There went my afternoon and evening plans of quiet alone time.

Since I was already overheating again, I decided to bake a cake:

Summer Fruit Claffouti

Preheat oven to 350 and grease a 9" round cake pan.

Melt 1/4 cup unsalted butter in the microwave
Beat 1 egg and 1 cup sugar until thick and lemon-colored.
Add 1 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/4 tsp. salt
Add 3/4 cup milk, 1 tsp. vanilla extract, and the melted butter.
Beat until smooth, Pour into pan.

Mix fresh or frozen summer fruits with 1/3 cup sugar (I used frozen peaches and frozen blackberries) and spoon onto top of batter.

Bake 1 hour, until toothpick comes out clean.

I knitted. I cooked dinner. I ate dessert (I only eat dessert when I have issues). Tomorrow is another day, as Scarlett would say.

Today, I will get my day of rest. Bill and Ray are going to the gun show in Grey and then to Bristol Caverns, and I am trying for round two of Pam's Day Off.

With luck, I won't see either of them until suppertime.

The easy life

Yesterday was a completely fun day. From 10 until 4, all I did was play.

Knitting class was a blast, where I was finally able to wrestle my 6" square into a three-dimensional, albeit deformed bunny, continue work on my chenille scarf, and get patterns for the projects I want to try next.

Lunch was fabulous. MaryAnn, Hannah, Angie, Sug (pronounced "Shoog," short for Sugar), and Maggie went to Jubilee Gallery, an old farm house turned into an artist's gallery and lunch room, and spent 3 hours laughing and talking. The food was inspired, the company warm and congenial, and the setting was delightful. Then Hannah, Angie and Maggie came up to La Casa Redondo to check out the blackberries for future picking and marvel at my messy, weird house.

Next week, we're going to try a couples dinner outing and see if our husbands mesh well too. Wow. All of a sudden, I have a social life!

Today, Bill is headed for the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, for a gathering of the Blue Ridge Ural Party (BURP for short) to try his hand at making new friends too. Who knew there were other Russian motorcycle enthusiasts in this neck of the woods? So Echo and I will hold down the fort and have a little quiet time together this weekend, while Bill goes wandering.

I could get used to this kind of lifestyle.

Sunshine! Knitting Class! Lunch with Friends!

I awoke to sunlight streaming in the windows for the first time this week. Wow! We've really needed the rain, so I've been stoic about it (even picking 3 quarts of blackberries in the pouring rain yesterday). But it's nice to wake up to light instead of gloomy dark.

And happy, happy day--today is Knitting Class for the first time in 2 weeks. And my homework is done! I have a 6" square and two ears to sew into a bunny. I have practice swatches. I have half a chemo cap, ready for completion. And I have patterns I want to try next, but need expert deciphering and stitch instruction before that can happen. See? I'm ready! Amazing.

New friends has been the added, surprise bonus to joining this group. Today 5 of us are going out to lunch after class, just for fun.

Some days, I feel pretty darned blessed.

BRCA Tests Negative

The results are in, and it is happy news: No BRCA 1 or 2 gene mutations present.

My cancer may have been sparked by hormones, or environmental toxins, or just a random roll of the cosmic dice. But at least I now know that I am not a carrier of the BRCA mutation, and I haven't passed on this particular nasty genetic anomaly to my children.

Big Day - BRCA testing results

Today, Bill and I will find out what the results are from my BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene tests.

Don't we live in an amazing time and place? I find it absolutely mind-blowing that from a little drop of blood (and a whole lotta money), my human genome can be decoded. We can know if I am a carrier of a gene mutation that may put me at risk for further reproductive cancers, or put our children, or my nieces at risk for future breast cancer; and if so, better screening methods can be employed to protect our health in the future. Wonderous!

I choose to look at this as a positive, regardless of the outcome. Knowledge is power, and ignorance is definitely not bliss when it comes to cancer risk. I already have or don't have the mutation, all that is missing is the knowing of it.

And today, we will know.

Shake-Down Cruise

We finally put the canoe in the river for the first time since we moved here. What took us so long, I wondered, as soon as we got out on the water.

Since it was a trial run, we didn't go for very long, just about an hour. The trolling motor was a bit cranky, so Bill had to get out the oars and get his aerobic exercise for the day. I forgot to bring sunscreen (!), so I took off my life jacket and used it to cover my legs so I didn't cook completely.

It is so quiet on the tributary, and so full of natural life. Here's a view (far off in the distance on the left) of Devil's Nose from our new perspective:



There were turtles perched on every log and snag:


















And a Green Heron in the trees:



















The good news is that the canoe didn't leak very much, and we had an hour of peaceful communing with nature. Now that we know what we're doing and the canoe has been proclaimed water-worthy, we'll plan on another trip, (with sunscreen this time), soon.

Hubris

No sooner did I wax poetic about the relative safety of rural life, when it all came back to bite me. Actually, sting me.

I was down at the pond yesterday collecting more blackberries, and disturbed a nest of ground bees, one who took gross exception to my presence. I yelped to beat the band, and Echo came running to save me. We walked back to the house, and I played the sleepy, Benadryl-medicated, whining patient for the rest of the day.

This morning, my fingers are almost back to normal, (the bee got me on my middle finger), but the palm and back of my hand is swollen tight and itchy. At least I didn't have any gross allergic reaction to this particular bee, just the swelling of my hand.

All of me is pretty itchy. I've got bug bites from head to toe, a band of mosquitoes or mites having chewed on me two nights ago when I was sleeping in my birthday suit, on top of the covers, to regulate my over-heated internal thermostat. I've got bites on top of my bites. I've got bites in really inconvenient places. Bill has chiggers all over his ankles. We're a pair.

Today, we're going to attempt to put the canoe in the Holston River and see what there is to see.
And in the privacy of our own watercraft, we can scratch in tandem without offending onlookers.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

Bill asked me yesterday (as I sat panting, exhausted, sweaty, bloodied by thorn-snags and scratching bug bites, after spending an hour down at the pond picking blackberries):

"You're not really a city girl anymore are you?"

"Nope!" I replied cheerfully. "I'm not sure I ever really was, even when I lived there."

Whereas the outdoors may have natural dangers and rural life its multiple inconveniences, and small towns have their politics and problems, I have rarely been afraid in my limbic brain since I left the metropolitan life. When I lived in Los Angeles, Irvine, San Jose, and Vallejo, I was always on high alert, somewhere in the underpinings of my mind. Whenever I visit New York, or San Francisco, New Orleans, Seattle, Washington D.C., etc., I am always in a state of barely-controlled panic, trying to keep nameless fears at bay. When I traveled alone in Australia and New Zealand, Fiji and Hawaii, I was a formidable shell of false confidence on the outside and quivering blubberiness on the inside.

I'm not sure what I was or am afraid of. All I know is that the constant noise and choking traffic keeps me on edge, in a constant state of fight-or-flight. Big-time stress. My eyes flicker across the faces of people I walk by, assessing their stability. I am at the start line, tensed and ready to leap out of the way of a runaway vehicle, should it suddenly caroom onto the sidewalk. It's almost as if I am always looking for an escape route, should I need it. I find living in the city makes me crazy, as if I'm constantly being assaulted with shots of adrenaline, keeping me on edge, as if my worry-mind will keep me safe and invulnerable from random events and dangerous people.

Here in what Bill and I laughingly call "Paradise," I am constantly aware of natural-lurking dangers, but the awareness doesn't scare me or crowd my thoughts. I watch where I put my feet and hands because there could be snakes and wild critters about. I think about what I'm doing before I use power tools or do something physical that has the potential to harm me. But for the most part, I move through my world with confidence and calmness. My brain is not constantly shouting "beware, alert, danger!!!" like it does in the city.

Did I become more afraid after I had my children, when there were my small, defenseless progeny to protect like a mama lion? I think so. I was always on high alert for potential dangers to them, perhaps overly protective, and maybe it suffused my own personality so that I unconsciously kept myself in a constant state of readiness, whether I wanted it or not.

When the kids were little, they had a children's book titled City Mouse, Country Mouse. The plot, like most juvenile books, was simple: Two mice cousins switch venues, and discover what it is like to live in each other's environment.

I grew up as a City Mouse in suburban Los Angeles. I learned how to drive on 75 mph, bumper-to-bumper freeways at rush hour. I did reckless, dangerous things as a teenager, seemingly careless to the possible consequences of my behaviors. But thinking back, even then, my happiest and calmest times were when I was outdoors, down by the ocean picking through the tidepools for shells, or camping with my family, or apple picking in Oak Glen, far away from the nutsiness and crowds of people. Perhaps even then, I was a closet Country Mouse at heart.

As a City Mouse, I can function, but I'm not comfortable--it's just too noisy and scary for me to relax and have fun at all. As a Country Mouse, I can hear myself think. And all I'm really sure of is that here and now, I'm happy and I'm at peace.

Saturday

I am always surprised when Saturday rolls around. Where did the week go? I have so little structure in my life (other than the ubiquitous medical follies), that everyday is like a Saturday. What should I do today?

There's laundry left over from the trip, sitting in the basement patiently waiting for me to care. There's also the laundry we've been generating since we got home. There's dog hair covering every square inch of carpet in our house. There are boxes of Longaberger waiting to be unpacked and sorted. There's kitchen garbage waiting to be inserted into the new composter-thingy that Bill bought and assembled for me. I was thinking of going over to Ray's and finish painting his doors, but the weather is rainy and hot and humid--not a good day for painting.

I know--I'll read a book! Or start a new knitting project!

I am a terrible, lazy person.

Yesterday, Bill and I went into town to view the Independence Day Parade. There were Shriners. There was a high school band and drill team, complete with tossing rifles (something you'd NEVER see in California or other more gun-phobic locales). There were local officials we didn't know and beauty queens of all age groups. Every emergency vehicle in the county showed up. There were tricked out classic cars and giant tractor-trailer rigs, sports teams, Scouts, church groups, homemade floats, and baton twirlers. I got the feeling that pretty much anyone who wanted to be in the parade was in the parade.

Dr. Phil Roe, a candidate for U.S. Congress was walking the route, shaking hands and introducing himself. I found this amazing, because our Congressional District is huge (maybe 8 counties?), and he took the trouble to come to little ol' Rogersville and be in the parade. I liked him, and will probably vote for him, since our current Congressman has failed my correspondence test--his replies to my emails have shown an appalling lack of intelligent reply or grasp of concept.

It was fun, it was hot and crowded, and it was the right thing to do on the 4th. Bill later went back into town for the fireworks, and came home very late, having gotten stuck in traffic (!). He said he had never imagined that so many people could cram into our little town for one event. Cars were actually double-parked on the four-lane highway running through town.

Being the life of the party as usual, I snoozed through those after-dark festivities, knowing I'd never last if I went into town with him.

Fourth of July...and Erroneous Emails

Someone probably sent you the email "The Price They Paid," about the signers of the Declaration of Independence and what fates befell them as a result of their signing that revolutionary document. I received several copies, forwarded by well-meaning friends.

But I flinch, having learned that almost every tidbit of information that comes to me over the internet needs to be viewed with abject skepticism. Thanks to www.snopes.com, urban legends and spurious emails can be vetted before they are resent in all their misinformational glory.

Embellishing history to make it more heroic or dramatic does a disservice to those who sacrificed their "lives, fortunes and sacred honor" in the cause of American independence. The truth is dramatic enough. For the real story, you can read it here: http://www.snopes.com/history/american/pricepaid.asp, and avoid forwarding this error-laden email yourself.

I plan on celebrating today with homage to those thinkers and doers who had the courage to embrace the concept of individual liberty and envision a nation based on it. We have often forgotten or ignored their example, and arguably voted ourselves into new forms of modern tyranny, but their accomplishment was truly extraordinary. It changed the world.

Great Group Photo

Barb sent this great photo of all of us on June 27th at the Ogden's house:

From upper left: Cameron, Charlie, Wayne, Kendra, Katie, Matthew, Pam, Bill, Deb; bottom left: Linda, Terry, Jesse, Ron

Thank you Barb!

Vacation Pix

Now I wish I had taken more pictures! I guess we were too busy having fun? Here is a small sampling:

Beautiful upper NY, north of West Point, overlooking the Hudson River.

Rafting down the Au Sable River, near Peru, NY.

Stunning, isn't it? The summers are fabulous, just really, really short!

Along with places to go, we had many people to see:

Terry, Jesse, Deb, Ron on violin, Barb at the piano.

Charlie Hoffman and daughter Megan

Katie Hoffman and the newest member of the clan, Cameron Ray Stockwell

Jessie Hoffman and fiancee, Debbie

And our wonderful hosts Kendra, Lauren, Ron & Dozer:

Thanks to everyone whose picture I forgot to take (duh!) for making it such a memorable trip--Ted, Sarah & Bella, Mary & John, Linda (we're planting Chuck's Rhubarb today!), Barb & Wayne, Gary, Anita & Steven, Bill Clarke, the Schribers and everyone who made time for us. It was great to see you!

Home at last

Home. I just wanted to go home yesterday.

Bill did not want our trip to end, so he devised ways of making it last. And last. And last.

We had a waffle in Harrisonburg, VA. We stopped for gas. We wandered around Staunton for an hour. We stopped at Lexington and Bill glanced around the museum at VMI, while I knitted in the car and Echo napped. I had my chicken sandwich at Dixie's in Ironto (my bad). Then Bill decided that since we had only been on the road since 6:30 am, and we still had another six hours of daylight, we should go home via Gate City. He had never been there and didn't know what was there, and it would only be another 40 miles or so out of the way and delay us getting home for still another hour.

And that's when I shot him, your Honor...

No, I didn't really visit physical violence upon him, though much female verbal ranting did ensue. I'm not proud of my major hissy-fit at all; I should have been able to diplomatically convince him to just get a-move-on to the old homestead instead of traipsing all over the countryside. We still had to stop at the Food Lion to get milk (and I bought ice cream and steak and beer, since it was all on sale--I was bone-tired, but not stupid). Which then made him madder, because obviously, I wasn't too tired to shop, just too tired to go where he wanted to go.

Old married people, behaving badly. Sigh.

It took us a few more hours to get over being steamed at each other, but truce was declared over a plate of eggs and a bowl of cereal at 9 pm.

I am so glad to be home.