Family Time

Inspirational song: Miss Prince (Hey Steve)

We have come to an understanding, after all these decades. My brother likes jam bands best, and some other fun, funky music, which I like in small doses. I tried to play some of my favorite Marillion song for him tonight, and he gave it the old college try. He really did. But he said he figured it out. He has listened to what my Spotify was churning out, and the stuff I like boils down to show tunes. I was listening to actual show tunes like Hamilton and Sweeney Todd earlier, but he decided even my other preferences sounded like it to him. Sure, prog rock is markedly, ah, theatric, but not all of it, right? It's possible in our wild youth, we might have argued over our differences. Now, we both shrugged and said to each his own. Sometimes maturity is handy.

This visit has been fun, but I have to say I appreciate that we are taking things at my speed. We have done dinners out, and had plenty of sitting-around-scrolling-on-phones time. Other than making my fabulous grain-free crepes for brunch, I haven't had to expend much energy. Not that I had much to throw around even if I wanted to. This wasn't the kind of vacation where we had to walk all around an amusement park and then head to a concert venue. I used to attempt those, but wow, I don't want to anymore. I showed off my two one-year-old girls to my brother, and I was somewhat active playing with the puppy and the baby, but in a seated position. 

I have to take my brother back to Denver tomorrow morning. It wasn't a long visit, but I think we got some quality bonding in. There is a good chance he will get to come back this fall. I'll be looking forward to that.

Colorado

Inspirational song: Daniel (Elton John)

I'm slowly sinking into my chair, listening to the constant rumble of thunderstorms swirling all around us, but barely skimming my house. It might occur to me to whine about the lack of raindrops on my yard, but I'm just so danged happy the heat broke that I can't be bothered to register a complaint. In the span of about thirty minutes this evening, the wind kicked up and brought the temps down by twenty degrees. It has been glorious ever since. This is what us old people call "sleeping weather."

My brother is visiting for the first time since we moved home to Colorado. It's ironic, see, on account of it was only because he lived in Denver when I was in high school that I chose the University of Colorado in the first place. I would never have come here without family somewhat nearby. So far today we have been taking it easy. He has been down in Commerce City with a friend, helping out with some remodeling work, while it was freaky hot. It's much better to be sitting around in the cool air, eating good Mexican food. This is much closer to the Colorado he remembers. Saoirse met him and thinks he is pretty cool. Tomorrow we get to see how Valerie reacts to her great-uncle.

I started this day with a 90 minute massage, and ended it with a margarita and too many enchiladas. Thank goodness my brother and I don't feel obligated like it was still the 1980s. Not like I could keep up with him even then. Not a chance now. Maybe it is time to test that sleeping weather.

Finalizing the Plan

Inspirational song: (Si, Si) Je Suis un Rock Star (Bill Wyman)

I had one last pre-op conversation with the primary surgeon this morning. We went over the plan, took some baseline measurements, and I got to raise all the concerns I'd come up with since the last visit. I now have my time and specific instructions for day of surgery, and I told her about my situation in case staying overnight would be safer than going home right after (now that we know about my reduced lung capacity). I was under the impression that we weren't taking a lymph node this time around, but I learned differently. That was the measurement they took, to be able to monitor for lymphedema, as I tell phlebotomists and blood pressure takers to swap sides from here on out. As if my medical visits weren't complex enough. I'm going to need to keep a diary in my phone calendar, to have half a chance to keep it all straight. The folks on disability Twitter say this is a full-time job, but even they would feel sorry for me for having to work overtime now.

Two years ago, my mom came up to stay with me during surgery and the first few days of recovery. She was just here again this past spring, so my feelings weren't hurt when she asked whether my crew here would take good enough care of me that she could stay home and wouldn't have to worry. I assured her that I have an excellent support system, and I have learned quite well when to quit the field and take care of myself. I am not too proud to say when I need a rest, and nobody will need me to be mommy for the month following surgery. I proposed to her that from this moment on, that act should also be known as a "Biles," just like all the other wild moves with a high degree of difficulty that few people in the world are brave enough to try, save for my eternal hero Simone.

Name It

Inspirational song: Little T & A (Rolling Stones)

Had a conversation with the neighbor about expectations for the wedding trip. I'm feeling much better now. We are all planning on being as safe as we can be, masking and washing hands, and best of all, the groom is scaling back bachelor party silliness. He says he feels no need to go to strip clubs. The guys will just have a dinner at a steak house he has chosen, and then they'll probably wander around the Fremont Street Experience. We don't know yet about the bride's determination to go to something like Thunder Down Under. I certainly will be skipping that. Not sure about the two 30-something young women who will be sharing a hotel room with us. The potential viral exposure from my companions attending these activities was what stressed me the most. In all other situations, I feel like I can keep my distance and be safe. My confidence level of avoiding the Rona is rising.

Three days in a row now, I've had my baby over here. You know I'm loving it. I think she is having a good time, and feeling independent about traveling all around the place. She has a lot of freedom to explore, which makes her happy and engaged. I just wish she wasn't so determined to stick her fingers in the houseplants by the front window.

She and her grandpa went to the park while I lay down for a bit this afternoon. I would like to say I napped, but I was not so fortunate. When they came back, she crawled on the bed with me, and looked out my window, flung her juice-filled sippy cup everywhere, and covered her moist hands with dog hair. (I swear I just pulled the quilt out of the dryer yesterday!) We were naming things, or more specifically, she was pointing and poking things, saying "huh," and I was giving them names. At one point I asked her did she know where her butt was. She thought about it for a minute, then put her hands and head on the mattress, straightened her legs, and waved her tiny hiney at me. Kid's smart. She doesn't need both hands to find her own butt.

Cover

Inspirational song: Bodies (Sex Pistols)

CDC is starting to tell us to mask up again. This is not helping to alleviate my nervousness over the upcoming trip that we have already booked and paid for. I was sitting next to a (retired?) doctor at Rotary today, discussing masking and caution, and he asked me was I just kidding about intending to wear a hazmat suit in Vegas. I said I was, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't considering a level of caution approaching full-body scuba gear. As much as I plan on overprotecting myself, how do I convince those young'uns going to the bachelor/bachelorette antics to stay masked and stay the hell away from me?

I'm already back to masking at the grocery store and similar shopping. I might not be a trendsetter in this respect, but I wasn't blind to the trends themselves. I suspect this week will be the last time I will go unmasked at Rotary, and there's no way I'll be the only one going back. I have way too much riding on being healthy over the next five or six weeks. Keep that stupid virus away from me!

We only had the baby for about two hours this morning, while her mommy was at an appointment. It was just long enough to have a great time playing, without her getting tired or cranky. Unlike yesterday, that kid packed in some food. Grandpa took her outside to pick berries (and from what I hear, 100% of them went straight into mouths), and then he made eggs and cheese. Every bite of egg seemed to power up the dancy feet. She had a blast. This evening, we got pictures of the new magnet letters her parents got when they replaced their fridge. She loved them, and according to the videos, she thought it was hilarious to grab handfuls of them to take to the front door. I'm pretty sure we will get a few sets for this house. It's literacy time!

Growth

Inspirational song: Games Without Frontiers (Peter Gabriel)

How on earth do toddlers get enough calories to grow? We had the baby here for several hours today, and it was an all-day event to get any food down her. We started with a tiny bowl of peaches and cottage cheese. That took over an hour just to get her to try the first bite. I made bacon, and let her have her own piece, which got chewed into oblivion, but I don't think a single bite was actually swallowed. We gave up and let her have some baby crack -- these little tabs of fruit and yogurt that have a merengue texture (but no egg). She ate those with gusto, but they are just fluff. If it wasn't for milk in her bottle, I don't think she would have had the calories to do all the playing and exploring she did today.

This was the first day we tested out the new bed for big girl naps. She was starting to wind down around one in the afternoon, so we went to the dark, quiet bedroom, and waited her out. She and I both conked out for a while, but she stayed asleep longer. The new bed is much more comfortable, the bedding is softer, and the height is safe enough for a toddler to sleep in. All-around win.

She will be back for a shorter visit tomorrow. I wonder what nonsense we will play at then. It may be time to get some new learning toys. Maybe I'll take her with me to pick them out.

Tubes

Inspirational song: Jurassic Park Theme (John Williams)

This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy often does that. This was even from an outing I would have loved to attend, if it hadn't been hot and sunny and I hadn't already been tired and sore. Mr S-P, our neighbors, and a friend of theirs (who has the sweetest dog named Moon) all went down to the river, where the city built recreational ponds for swimming and tubing, as part of their remediation after the big 2013 flood. I've wanted to go play down there for years, but I have yet to make it. Today was not the day to go wear myself out in the sun. Maybe some other day. It looks like fun.

We are on the cusp of another heat wave. It's time to cave in and use air conditioning this week. I'll have that baby over here several days, and neither of us needs to be hot and wilty. There is no part if me looking forward to days of stifling heat.

I'm starting to get really nervous about our upcoming trip. Three months ago, it seemed safe enough. But with the delta variant, breakthrough cases, and the general unpleasantness of Nevada in August, I'm feeling more than a little stress over what is possibly waiting for us in two weeks. Maybe I should have gone to relax in the tubing ponds when I had the chance.

Goose Egg

Inspirational song: Linger (The Cranberries)

I'm not sure I'm capable of a coherent narrative for this evening's installment. I thumbed through the photos from today, and while I remember being present during all the activities, I can't remember what I was thinking at the time. I guess I sleepwalked through the whole process. 

I must have been on autopilot. I spent an hour pitting cherries from the tree, so I can freeze them. I had videos playing while I did it, but my mind was engaged with neither. I did a lot of vacuuming, testing out the stick vac I bought yesterday (early opinion, worth the $$$ I spent to get this much dog hair up), but this also didn't activate many brain cells. And finally, I went over to spend an hour cuddling with the baby and visiting with the kids. We weren't exactly solving differential equations. We just chatted.

Now it's late and the best I have is to present my photos as described. Only one needs more explanation: Valerie stumbled on her paver walkway outside, and gave herself a goose egg just under her bangs. She recovered quickly, but word is she did not like it one bit.

Joe and the Brain Cloud

Inspirational song: Sixteen Tons (v. Eric Burdon)

Oh, thank goodness. For the first time in ages, we brought out an older movie to watch next door that mostly held up over time. We had been on shaky ground, especially after the last one I insisted on. There was a soupçon of questionable appropriateness with the casting at the very end of the movie (which is technically explained ahead of time, albeit a serious reach for the plot), but overall we weren't cringing over homophobia, misogyny, racism, or other problematic themes from other movies from our youth that didn't hold up as well.

Naturally, this movie benefitted from being the first of the three Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan rom-coms. We watched Joe Versus the Volcano, and we found plenty to still like about it. T had never seen it, but once he realized it was an early Tom Hanks movie, he was willing to try it. Now he understands when we make references to a "brain cloud" and indestructible steamer trunks. To this day, I have wanted some of that luggage.

I did a fair bit of shopping with my girls today. We walked around three very large stores (Bed, Bath & Beyond, Target, and the biggest King Soopers in town), and now I want to crawl under a rock and cry. I am so tired, partly from the walking and partly because of the emotional and physical energy expended keeping that baby happy. As I told T tonight, now that she is more than one year old, She Is Two. Tantrums have started, as has frustration with shopping carts, car seats, and boring bottles of milk. She doesn't quite comprehend the gap of time between selecting a food item in the store and paying for it before shoving it in your face hole. It is going to take practice and a bit more language skills before these things go smoothly. I'm not giving up on outings with the baby, but I will be glad for some more sophisticated communication skills when they arrive.

No Pressure

Inspirational song: Talk to Ya Later (The Tubes)

We went to brunch with our Wyoming guest late this morning. None of us was moving fast or early. Even knowing Lucile's was our destination, we couldn't be bothered to dress and go until after 10. The restaurant was fantastic as always, and we stuffed ourselves mercilessly. They each had all the gluten they could handle, Mr S-P got enough powdered sugar (on begniets) to power an entire kindergarten class, our friend got fish (which I also don't allow in the house), and I got to have grits without anyone making faces at me.

I was just sure, as we drove home, that I wouldn't be able to eat another actual meal today, and I was pretty close. I did end up having popcorn for dinner much later, because I was craving salt, but that was it. I needed to change from jeans to shorts, and sit in front of a fan while I digested, and do nothing else. Our houseguest left shortly after noon, but I stayed in the same spot, in front of the same fan, for nearly all day. I think I might have left my motivation at the restaurant. 

The Mr had planned on this being another overnight build trip up at the cabin. He and Murray went up around 4, and as the sun set, we received pictures from the hill. Just as I had done, he discovered that motivation was absent, before he even made it to the parking spot. Our daughter and I assured him that it is perfectly acceptable to go to his mountain retreat just to sit in the quiet and cool air. Ain't nobody down here going to accuse him of slacking if he just drinks coffee on the deck and admires the view while Murray snoozes at his feet.

Dirty Dozen

Inspirational song: We Are Family (Sister Sledge)

For the first time in ages, the entire gang was present for game night. We even had a plus one in our young friend from Wyoming. (We have a habit of "adopting" people in need of a little extra supportive family, and this person is our latest adoptee.) Including the baby, we totaled twelve. It was an active, boisterous, wildly enjoyable game night, with our regular pod. (If you are wondering, everyone but the baby has been vaccinated--that was our condition for returning to in-person games.)

We are still on hiatus from Mr S-P's D&D campaign, so we broke into two groups and played different games. My daughter wanted to learn mah jongg, so that she can play with some people from her work, so I taught her the rule set I have. It isn't the Chinese gambling version, but rather the air force spouses social version. It's still possible to play for points in our rules, but we always just played for an excuse to get together and visit, so I am not even sure I remember how to score points.

The other group, the one playing in the hot front room (I was parked over by the a/c on purpose), played some sort of nuclear annihilation game. I vaguely remember it from college, when Mr S-P and I lived with another member of our game group. I remember them being absolutely brutal competitors in everything, thus scaring me off of several games I might have liked if they weren't so cutthroat. So if I played this game back in college, I quickly learned not to get between the guys when they were going at it, and stopped participating at all. Tonight I had much more fun teaching two people how to play mah jongg open-handed, encouraging them to do well, not trying to get one up on anyone.

If the amount of fun we had wasn't enough to make you wish you had been there, perhaps this will: We picked three large mixing bowls full of tart cherries off our tree, inspiring me to make a creation to share. I had trouble finding gluten-free cookies at my local King Soopers for a crust, and rather than go to a different store when I was already tired, I resolved to use a brownie mix as the base. I mixed up a 3/4 batch of cheesecake batter (3 packs of cream cheese and 3 eggs, instead of the usual 4), and baked those together. I pitted a bunch of cherries, and boiled them with sugar. I tried to make a syrup, but there was too much water, so it stayed runny. At the end, I mixed in a splash of cherry liqueur. I poured the topping over the cheesecake in bowls, since it was so liquidy. I have declared the name of this concoction to be schwartzwalderkirschkäsetorte. That might not be entirely proper German, but it felt fun to say.

My Favorite Mermaid

Inspirational song: Hot Child in the City (Nick Gilder)

While much of the northern hemisphere is experiencing heat more in excess of summer averages than we are, it was still hot enough here to be bleeping uncomfortable. I was glad to have reasons to be places where the air conditioning was running. I'm still being too cheap to drag out my portable a/c. The attic fan is sufficient for most days. As long as it gets down to the low 60s overnight, I'll be fine. It does get me sort of melty in the afternoons though.

We were invited to go cool off in Valerie's pool with her late this afternoon. While I did go visit, I wasn't in a mood to get wet or haul myself over the pool ladder that doesn't play nice with my old and busted hip flexors. I sat outside and chatted with the water baby. Grandpa showed up a little after I did, and he was all over swimming with the girls. My massage therapist has alerted me to a baby swim program that teaches little-littles how to hold their breath in water and do some basic swimming theory in short ten minute bursts. I want to enroll our baby in these classes, but my schedule for the next quarter is packed with stuff that would preclude me carrying her, or even lifting her in and out of the car. Maybe her parents can work it into their schedules.

She started getting cranky in the pool, and her mother and I both missed the signs. Mr S-P caught it, that she was hungry and thirsty. She sat in my lap and drained a bottle of milk. So much for me not wanting to get wet. She soaked my clothes, right before I needed to go home. It was fun walking to my car looking like I had peed. Wait, "fun" is not the word I'm looking for...

Still Two

Inspirational song: Golden Slumbers (The Beatles)

I met with the plastic surgeon from Boulder who will be participating in my next procedure in a month. I learned a whole lot about how this will go, and it's going to be quite different than I understood after speaking with the two docs at the cancer clinic. I thought that having both surgeons present would mean the whole thing would be done all at once. That isn't entirely accurate. 

It now seems that the plastic surgeon will do the opening, just on the right side. Then the cancer surgeon will move in and remove the parts she wants to whisk away. I assume she will check the margins before passing back off to the plastic surgeon again. Then he will do a proper reduction, including placing a drain (oh joy), and seal me up. I heal from that, then go through radiation. This time it won't be targeted and concentrated in twice-daily doses, as it was last time. This will be zapping the whole breast, and cover more days on the calendar.

It won't be until after radiation that I go back to the plastic surgeon for reconstruction and reshaping. Radiation can potentially cause the breast to shrink (I think I heard that right), so to get everything lined up to match, we have to wait until stuff has settled a bit. It will be at that point that he will go in for "donor fat" to reshape the sad little tote bag that I have left after half of the left side was cut off. He said that the hospital in town where we will be next month doesn't have his fat grafting equipment like he has at his practice.

I guess it's not horrible that it will take longer. I've had so many procedures done in the last dozen years, one more is no big deal. I do feel like I'm in good hands. I've heard only good things about all the doctors on my case. This will be fine.

(No pix tonight. Not putting images that fit this topic on the internet.)

Puppy Birthday

Inspirational song: Welcome to the Boomtown (David & David)

My morning started as usual, with me being trampled by several hungry cats and one overly exuberant polar bear. I ignored them as long as I could, but eventually I had to get up and feed the horde. Just after I distributed breakfast nummies, I got a direct message on Twitter. It was one of my friends down at the ranch, making sure I was aware that today was the puppies' birthday. No, I said. I wasn't. I thought I had been told the 21st. Nope. My friend wrote it down when it happened, July 18. I hadn't prepared a celebration yet, thinking I had three more days to plan. I might wait until Wednesday to throw her a party anyway, so that her daddy can be home, and the kids come over for game night as usual. They say it can take three years for a Great Pyrenees to fully mature, so I am not prepared to call her an adult yet. A big galloot, yes. Adult, not so much.

I'm trying hard to get through some of the necessary tasks I've been staring at for weeks or months, never finding the will to begin. I pulled out the carpet cleaner (only to realize with horror that it had been put away dirty, with water that was moldy and stinky in the collection tank), and I did one good pass on the living room carpet. All the furniture is still pushed off the edges of it, but Special Helper Saoirse made sure that her toys were retrieved from the bin and spread back out across it. It's mostly dry now, but I've run out of inspiration to lift furniture to reassemble the space. Maybe tomorrow. I have begun the arduous task of clearing the year of accumulated debris off the piano, so I can properly dust it, finally. And not for nothing, while the Mr is still out of town, I am going to make sure a lot of "oh, I will [shred/recycle/repair] that later" stuff that has never been addressed disappears permanently. That has been a big source of tension, and I need much of it to go away before the next surgery.

Apparently Clovis, New Mexico is not exactly a hopping town on a Sunday night. Most of the places we used to go have closed down. The Mr was so bored he even went to the mall. He chatted with a store clerk, and was told that Covid was rough on a lot of the businesses there. And it didn't help the local economy any that the air force base has completed enough base housing that fewer people need to live in town and spend their money there. While Mr S-P was driving and sending me dreary pictures of a town in decline, I asked him to drive past the mom and pop gift shop and plant nursery where I worked while I was finishing my masters degree. It doesn't look like it is still in business anymore, and there was a name on a mailbox out front I didn't recognize. But there was still at least one stray cat visible on the property, so I guess it still retains its spirit.

Long Drive

Inspirational song: Highway Tune (Greta Van Fleet)

My bored, road-weary husband sent back so many photos from the highway, in traffic jams and pulled over trying to capture distant lightning on camera, that I feel like I made the long drive to eastern New Mexico with him. I have done that drive more times than I care to count (yet still probably fewer than he has done), and I feel like I still remember every inch of it, especially the lonely road part after one exits the interstate to cut across at Springer. He made it to town after dark, hours later than expected, because of the same matted-up traffic in Southern Colorado where we were car-sandwiched this spring. 

Neither of us wanted this trip to be necessary, but it was inevitable. Our house down there has had plumbing problems since we lived in it a dozen years ago. Every year or so, one set of tenants or another would need emergency plumbing repairs, and our rents collected would once again dip below what we needed to pay the mortgage. Now we are closer than we have been in years to being able to get out of the landlord business at last, with the current tenants expecting military orders to move in this upcoming winter cycle. And right on time, the sewer line has given up the ghost for good. 

We sold the condo we had in Boulder this year, at a significant profit from where we bought it, so putting money into the remaining house would offset our taxes owed just enough to be worth it. (I'm sure we will still owe some, but this sewer repair will represent a serious loss of income, so maybe it won't be too bad.) The contractors doing the replacement predicted they would need to cut through the sprinkler line in two places, and for a mere thousand dollars more, they could repair it as they went. Naturally we told them to get bent, and with gasoline, food, and hotel, Mr S-P driving down to do the repair is still cheaper than what they wanted to charge. And also tax deductible. 

While he is there, he will make contact with the real estate brokerage we used to buy it back in 2008, to lay the groundwork to put it back on the market after Christmas. I cannot tell you how happy I will be to let this place go, finally. Ten years was too long to be absentee landlords once we moved from there.

Choices

Inspirational song: I Love My Dog (Cat Stevens)

When we travel in a few weeks, to attend the neighbor's Vegas wedding, I'm pretty sure this will be my first trip leaving my puppy behind. I can't think of a single night I've spent away from her since I got her. Am I wrong? Am I missing a trip I took that I've completely forgotten? I don't think so. I've asked my dog-sitter to sleep here, so catastrophic naughtiness does not occur, but even with that caution, I can't imagine how she will react without either of her parents for a weekend. She's used to the Mr taking Murray up to the mountain on overnights, and she gets giddy when he pulls up in front of the house. Not sure how she will take to Murray staying and me going next time.

I let another day get mostly away from me. I did only the easiest of tasks, like putting two different deep conditioning treatments on my hair (but not seeing the springy curls I expected from the combo). I sorted out and filled two new underbed storage bins, and put several cubic feet more clothes out to donate. I will take the small w on that one.

While I stayed home with goo on my hair, the Mr took his old high school friend and the friend's dad up in one of the planes he has been training in, to celebrate the dad's birthday. I think the guys had a good time. Then the Mr and our friend went 4-wheeling all over the mountains in Boulder County. The girls and I received photos and videos that made me very comfortable with my choice to stay home. While they were slinging mud and bouncing around, I was cuddling with my favorite baby, and even briefly swimming in a chilly pool with her. I didn't need to take risks and burn a whole lot of extra petrol to make my day complete.

All I Got

Inspirational song: Creep (Radiohead)

I'm going to owe a lot of people a lot of apologies next Tuesday. I had promised I was going to go to our first Rotary social in a zillion months, which was also our changing of the guard party, and I didn't go. I really thought I could make it, and had every intention of doing it. Then I went with the Mr to meet one of our oldest friends for coffee in Boulder (and did too much walking for my own good), followed by a long drive up to Fort Collins to the only Costco that has one item I really needed and apparently doesn't stock three or four others I also needed. That last part also included way too much walking and more importantly too much sun. I felt absolutely wretched by the time we got home, and I spent the rest of the evening trying not to add an emotional breakdown to my physical depletion. Sprinkle a generous portion of guilt for missing the party to honor my friend taking over as club president for the year, and my wretchedness is complete. I'm just sitting here past bedtime, trying to decide whether what I'm feeling is anxiety or heartburn (or both), wishing I had more peppy and hopeful things to write about. I guess the best thing to do now is stop and see whether I was sent any good photos I can steal and share.

Gift

Inspirational song: Signs (Five Man Electrical Band)

I can finally reveal the silly little art project that has consumed me since Friday night! Last week I was looking for something to keep my hands busy that wasn't a screen of any sort. I knew I had a bunch of cross stitch supplies, so I sought inspiration in the most obvious of places--Pinterest. It took quite a bit of scrolling to come across a quote that really spoke to me (pun intended), although the pattern was a generic ring of flowers. The quote was, "But did you die?" I knew that was the right one, since Mr S-P always says that to our neighbor whenever he starts complaining about some scary mishap the two of them have gotten into, invariably at Mr S-P's instigation. I just had to make the pictures more personal to them.

I started with a mountain scene, into which I put a tiny replica of the cabin, complete with the aspen meadow and Murray's ramp off the deck. (It's very small, but if you zoom in on the picture, you can see it.) Then I countered that with a campfire, not for any specific incident, but they usually have a fire going up there to burn off slash, unless there is a county or state wide burn ban. On the right I made a hammer and saw. (So many saw mishaps. Oh, God, so many...) And finally on the left, I put a truck tire, with one lug nut loose on the ground. I might have told that story of why they call his truck a "3Runner" already. If not, it deserves its own whole blog post.

I presented this gift, to honor our wedding anniversary (today), to the Mr at our weekly game night. I knew it would amuse everyone else as much as it would the man. I was right. I left him the option of leaving it in the embroidery hoop and trimming the edges, or ironing it flat and framing it. He chose framing, and he wants to take it to the cabin and hang it there. I am pleased by this choice.

Also, the baby was quite entertaining during tonight's game. As always.

Why, Alan, Why?

Inspirational song: Kayleigh (Marillion)

I knew I would be up late tonight, but I didn't expect to have such a narrow-minded focus on my creative project that I would almost forget to blog before bed. I was really in the flow of my art, which for now remains a mystery to you, that I didn't realize it was already past midnight. I want to show what I'm up to, but waiting one more day is imperative. You'll see soon.

I felt noticeably better today compared to my absolute lethargy yesterday. I was alert enough to go to Rotary, and even pay attention to the program (which was quite interesting, honestly). As soon as I was home and settled in, I turned back to my project, and had just gotten in a solid groove when Saoirse alerted and started barking at a pedestrian. I was about to chastise her for barking at a mom walking her baby in a stroller, when I realized I knew who the mom and baby were. I still chastised Saoirse, but more specifically for barking at her baby.

It was the greatest feeling to see that little girl walk through my door and immediately pick up speed to "run" straight into my arms. This is what makes grandparenting awesome. She is now doing so many of the things I was waiting for, like sneaking off to get into everything, and then running back babbling little baby jokes that don't have a discernable meaning. It takes a lot more quick action to keep her from danger in my not-perfectly-childproofed home, but it is still fun. They were only here about an hour, needing to be out of the house while daddy had an online meeting that was best accomplished without distraction. I was thrilled to be the halfway point of their walk. 

When I was driving back from dropping off my friend who rode with me to Rotary, I flipped through my satellite radio presets. Pausing on the 80s channel, I nearly screamed to hear the opening chords of the first song I ever knew by my favorite band, the group I have traveled all around the country to see multiple times over the last 35+ years. They just don't get radio airplay, despite still putting out fantastic quality music over all this time. I sat in the driveway just a little longer to hear the song to the very end. And then it happened. The DJ (former VJ Alan Hunter) called them a one-hit wonder. Dammit, Alan. Damn you...

Zero

Inspirational song: Think About Me (Fleetwood Mac)

Too many times in the last week, I have run myself down to zero battery. I don't even know whether normal people experience this level of exhaustion on a regular basis to understand what I mean. I'm talking glassy-eyed stare, can't make a fist, not only does talking feel like too much energy, but even holding my teeth together is hard at times like that. Words come out funny, when they come out at all. And the idea of raising my arms to put water or food in my face to add back ATP just sounds like too much work. Is this something everybody feels from an average day of driving around to one or two stores, and then sitting in a group of people, sharing stories over dinner? It feels like I'm hitting that stage far too quickly, far too often. The only thing I can guess to attribute it to is that this round of cancer is hitting me harder. I don't know why that would be so. I'm no oncologist. 

I just let the tiredness embrace me today. I didn't try to do anything remotely taxing. For the most part, I stayed in my chair and dozed frequently throughout the day. If I'm lucky, I will have recharged enough by tomorrow to do my usual Tuesday activities. 

I suppose I can use one of the photos I held back from yesterday. Tiny Carmen was giving the Mr the stink-eye. I turned to take her picture, and she moved, and looked far more innocent than she had seconds earlier. Ignore the messy table next to her. That's where Valerie had been snacking.

Bonding

Inspirational song: Brother 52 (Fish)

There was a very special sort of family reunion this weekend, and I got to be around to witness the tail end of it today. My son-in-law grew up estranged from his father, and had not seen him since he was a baby. There were a lot of assumptions made about how much the elder wanted to he involved in the younger's life, and in the last year, we learned many of them were wrong. It was only in this last year, since Valerie's birth and a whole lot of other significant changes on that side of the family, that we learned that there are younger sisters, and that the father really wanted to be able to introduce them to our son-in-law. This challenged everything he had always believed, and provided a vehicle for a great deal of healing.

This weekend the whole group, plus some young friends eager for a summer vacation, came out to Colorado to meet our kids. We were all a little anxious going in, but the event went smoothly and everyone was over the moon to get acquainted, at long last. I'm especially happy for Valerie, who will grow up with a much bigger family, particularly with a dad who feels part of something good that he didn't know was out there waiting for him.

Val's newly-met grandpa is a tattoo artist by profession. When he travels, he takes a portion of his equipment with him. (I heard him mention he goes places like Daytona, as working trips.) A tradition he has had was to have each of his daughters sign their names on his arms, at different stages of their lives. The youngest one first did it at age five, and her childish scrawl was adorable. There was a second set from a few years later, and he was behind on getting a third set. This provided a perfect opportunity for our son-in-law to get in on the tradition. So this afternoon, all four kids put their names on the inside of his arm, and D got to go back and find how he signed his name at earlier stages of his life (I guess he or his mom found old schoolwork?) and add it at the top of the other two sets. The dad was patient and explained well to each kid what to do. The youngest was nervous, even though she had done this twice before. I loved the effect it made.

I'm a sucker for unique family traditions. Just as I think it is the coolest thing that Mr S-P took our girls to the same mountain hike every couple years, and took pictures at the same points of interest, I think this is very special and I admire it. And you know, they say tattoos are addictive. It has got me wanting to get another one. I already have the next one picked out, but I kind of have to heal from surgery and radiation first before I put it where it needs to go. But now, for the first time ever, I'm wondering whether there is a word I would want to wear for the rest of my life. I'll have to think that over.