Technical Difficulties

Inspirational song: I'm On a Boat (The Lonely Island ft. T-Pain)

After six months of delays, buildup, and anticipation, the much ballyhooed original campaign has kicked off. So far all we've done is get in place and get to know each other, and already it's fantastic.

This is a huge group. Most D&D parties are between three and six people. There are eight of us playing, plus the DM, which is Mr S-P. He has been writing and revising this story all year, and he was afraid we wouldn't think it lived up to the hype. No worries. We were all into it. We also spent months coming up with backstories for our own characters, and providing them to him to fit into the story line. It was amazing how he wove eight radically different people into his world, and it all made sense. All we really did was board a boat and sail about a fifth of the way around our route, but that was enough for us to get acquainted with each other (although I know my Miriam has not yet interacted with two of the passengers to speak of). Some of the secrets have been discovered. Some are still a mystery.

Miriam was introduced to the group having a shouting argument with one of her retainers. She travels with her teenage nieces and her cousin's teenage daughter. On the morning of the second day of the voyage, everyone hears her freaking out to discover that the cousin's daughter ran away, sneaking overboard while tug boats were leading us out of the bay (she went back to shore on one of the tugs). The argument had been over how "boring" our adventures were to an Amazon girl of sixteen, who is approaching her maturity (barely). So now my character is trapped on the boat as a hired guard to a dignitary, while her politically powerful cousin's daughter is seeking true excitement. She is barely sleeping, and when she does, she has nightmares about what a bad guardian she is and how she is not ready to be a parent herself, no matter how much she dreams about having her own child. Anxiety is overwhelming right now.

We all gathered upstairs at 7, our regular start time, while Mr S-P set up downstairs. We were told not to come down unless we wanted spoilers. Then we heard shouting, swearing, and a noise I recognized. Everyone frowned and looked at each other. I calmly said, "That's the sound of [Mr S-P] smashing a laptop. For the third time." Now, to be fair, this particular laptop has lasted much longer than it ought to have. Normal people would have replaced it by now. It had a black line across the screen for the last year, maybe year and a half. It grew recently. And last spring, the Mr had a candle burning too close to the back of it, and he burned a hole in the plastic cover, exposing all of the wiring in an inch-wide spot. So when the screen completely failed while he was trying to hook his laptop up to the TV downstairs, it wasn't out of left field. Really, with a few minutes of distance from the event, it was downright funny.

I did not get my table constructed in time. I tried. Boy, I tried. Half of it is really close. The other half is  not. We got the legs in place mid-afternoon, and as we flipped it over to test the fit, I learned that my range of motion is much more limited than it used to be. I ended up getting a sprained wrist and a pretty good scrape in the process. That slowed me down for being able to paint and prepare side two. So hopefully by next week it will be done and in place. I just had too many technical difficulties to get it done for the kickoff.

Hike

Inspirational song: These Boots Are Made for Walking (Nancy Sinatra)

Lesson number four thousand and eight in taking victories where you find them, no matter how small: today I walked around downtown, in the sun, and survived. I went to Rotary, which was in itself a small victory, and I parked up on the street instead of in the underground parking garage. I had planned to meet a dear friend slash former business partner at the gluten free bakery three blocks from where Rotary meets. I walked down after we let out, arriving slightly before the meeting time, only to learn from the owner of the bakery that they closed at 2 pm, ten minutes from the time I walked in the door. So we arranged an alternate meeting place, two more blocks north, and I grabbed an eclair to eat along the way. I doubt I was a pretty sight, an overweight woman in a knit cap in late summer sun, staggering slowly up Main Street, panting in between bites of pastry as she walked. But I couldn’t enter a different coffee shop with food from their competitor down the street, so it had to be done.

I had a glorious visit with my old friend, and we sat for an hour and a half catching up. She was in town for the wedding of one of my daughters’ contemporaries, the child of mutual friends of ours. I got to hear about the wedding, which sounded lovely, and we talked about health and politics (we both adore the same candidate, so it was not contentious), and we generally had a good time. When we wrapped up, she walked back to my car with me, and I gave her a ride back to the friend’s house where she was staying.

My big victory wasn’t getting to visit with my friend; that was more of the prize I earned. My victory was being able to walk ten blocks outside on a warm day, however slowly, and be okay afterwards. Granted, I’ve been wiped out ever since, but a week and a half ago I couldn’t walk from my bed to the kitchen. I feel like an elite athlete compared to that. And that is a huge accomplishment.

Labored

Inspirational song: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

The streak continues. I'm still going hard, trying to spread my newly-building energies in as many directions as I can reach. Among my (admittedly minor) accomplishments was creating a whole new dish that I've been dreaming about for three years now. It was almost as good as I'd wished it to be.

I slowly worked on the game table, as best I could in the unrelenting sun and heat of the day. I put two coats of spackle, sanding after each, and once the sun went behind the chokecherry tree so I didn't burn up like a vampire in daylight, I put a coat of Kilz on the half that was mostly constructed. I left the other half alone, waiting for more temperate weather to cut out the other dice trays and file smooth the openings. This process will get more intense tomorrow, but I am not going to worry about that tonight.

My foster daughter has wanted to do group crafting experiences, and I am on board for this, once I have something small I can do wherever we are. She brought her supplies over to our block, and she, T, and I spent the afternoon and evening together, being creative. After burning up most of my energy on painting the table and trying to catch up on cleaning (I failed), my contribution to "crafting" was to make the protein component to our group meal. Ever since we started selling peaches for our Rotary fundraiser, I've been trying to think of an uncommon flavor pairing to use in some peach recipe. When I bought my house, there was a giant common sage plant just outside the back door, that came back year after year. I have wanted to try something with peaches and sage since the first case of peaches came home with me. Tonight, I sauteed chicken and shallots in chopped bacon, then slowly braised that with cut up peaches, chicken stock, fresh sage, and allspice. Later, I pulled out the solids and reduced the sauce to a glaze, adding in a little sugar and an herbal liqueur that tastes a little like Jagermeister, but way better. It was fantastic. My foster daughter made creamy, cheesy mashed potatoes, and T roasted asparagus and provided a bottle of white wine. We keep talking about doing group dinners like this, and I am a hundred percent in support of this. It's kind of what I'd hoped would happen when I started cooking homemade meals for D&D nights, but this way I don't have to do all of the work and have all of the fatigue on the next day. If everyone brings a potluck dish, it's easier (and cheaper) for me. I hope we make it a weekly thing, whether that's for the Wednesday night group or on Sundays for football next door. Or both. Both is fine with me too.

Compulsion

Inspirational song: Bitchin' in the Kitchen (Shock Treatment)

Are we the only ones feeling intense pressure to take on giant tasks right now? It feels like we've been bitten by an industriousness bug. I've got to race through my table project, the Mr is trying to stay ahead of the weather to get as much work on the cabin as possible before the season ends in maybe six weeks, and T just jumped into the deep end of home renovation. We are all trying to help each other out (except I can't get up to the cabin yet), which makes me feel like we are in a whirlwind of construction, carpentry, and demolition. We are all working ourselves into fatigue and soreness, but not one of us wants to stop. It's too much fun, even as it's physical and hard.

This morning I went over next door just to ask a question, and ended up picking up a hammer and pry bar, and popping loose some of the black tiles that had been the old counter top. It was just too compelling. I had to do it. (Side note: when we were house hunting four years ago, we toured T's house, and when I came out of it, I saw the "coming soon" sign here, and knew that this was my house. At least 60% of the reason I knew his place wasn't for me was that icky counter top of 4x4 glossy black bathroom tiles. I had said that if we bought it, the first thing I'd do would be to rip out the tiles. T has said multiple times how glad he was that I hated that kitchen, so he could get the house.) Over the next month, he's going to have new, white cabinets, a neutral quartz counter top, luxury vinyl plank floors, and all new appliances. According to him, this year's Thanksgiving will come from his fancy new kitchen. I can support that plan.

All of this construction would be so much easier if the summer would finally loosen its grip on us. It's supposed to be a hundred degrees tomorrow. What were we thinking, deciding this had to be done right now? You can't do this sort of stuff with doors closed and air conditioners running. It's hot work. Even I have to be out in the sun, as unpleasant as that is to me. I had to take time to remind myself today that technically there is still one week left in this chemo cycle. I need to forgive myself for running out of gas in the heat and sun. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop playing with tools any time soon.

Team Effort

Inspirational song: Songs from the Wood (Jethro Tull)

Time is running out to get the game table finished. The new campaign starts on Wednesday, and until this afternoon, I only had a few of the component pieces cut. I'd been sanding the rough reclaimed plywood, but that was all the progress I'd made. Mr S-P and T recognized that I was going to need help to get it all done in time. After they worked on T's new dedicated beer brewing station in his garage, getting plumbing set up for that, they came back here and gave me several hours of skilled labor. I couldn't have gotten as far as I did today without them.

The table has to be built in two sections. There's no way we could get it into the basement room otherwise, and it needs to be able to be taken apart and stacked out of the way when we don't want it set up. I'm still not sure when that would be yet, but I'm sure there will be a time when it's dismantled and set against the wall. We have one side completely cut now, and half assembled. The table skirt is in place, and the raised rails are almost ready to be glued on and screwed down. There will be cup holders and dice trays, enough for ten people (although there are currently nine who need to sit around this table), and it took all of us to get the cut-outs completed.

I bought a four-inch hole saw for the cup holders, knowing how hard it would be to get good circles with the jigsaw. The amount of time and effort saved made the investment worth it ten times over. The dice trays had to be done with the jigsaw, and it proved so difficult to get right, it made me even more glad for the hole saw. We used a spade bit to round the corners, and sawed along the lines to cut out the five by nine inch rectangles. Or rather, we tried to follow the lines. All three of us took stabs at it, and not one of us made perfectly straight lines where they were supposed to be. The plywood was thick and the saw blade pulled hard to the left, no matter who was steering it. I was left with no choice but to make a late-night run to Lowe's for a collection of large metal files. I sat in front of the TV for hours, through to the end of SNL, trying to perfect the cutouts. I did my best, but eventually I had to stop. I'll try a little more in the morning, and then it will be gluing time.

The hard brain work was done today. When next we can work on the other half of the table, it should go fairly quickly. It's just a matter of copying it all for the other side. Then my job will be to prime and paint and set it up downstairs. This is one of the biggest things I've designed, and I'm excited to have it finished and in use.

Showdown

Inspirational song: I Believe (Book of Mormon)

Oh, right, we were overdue for another giant vet bill. After all, it has been a whole month since the last one. What was I thinking, feeling like we were probably bottomed out already, and going to see normalcy from here. That's not the way pet parenting works.

The Mr had taken the dogs to the cabin last night, intending to spend the night there and start work early this morning. He would have brought everyone home as the sun set tonight. Elsa had other plans. They arrived after dark yesterday, and hiked up the hill. The dogs know the way, so the Mr didn't feel like he needed to babysit them closely. They got settled in to bed, and Elsa started asking to go outside to potty. And then she did it again a little later, and again... Apparently no one got much sleep overnight. And she didn't always make it outside. As the sun came up, the Mr found a mess on her bed too, but oddly, it didn't smell (which was why he didn't know she did it until he saw it). She drank water compulsively, and was super wobbly. She even pitched forward into her water bowl once. So he packed everything back up and headed back down the hill before he even had coffee. She was okay on the drive home, and when they went to the vet early this afternoon, she was as chipper as she could be. More than an hour and more than $500 later, it was determined that she ate mushrooms on the way up the mountain in the dark. So she's fine. Just expensive.

When I went out yesterday, to my doctor and errands, I noticed that the car claimed it was still over 90 degrees outside, but it sure didn't feel like it. The air felt gentle and cool. I could tell fall is getting close. Tonight, my biggest indicator of season change has arrived: it was the Rocky Mountain Showdown, the first football game of the CU/CSU season. In fact, as I type now, it's still on, for another minute of game time. There were two rain delays, so it didn't kick off until almost 9 tonight. Neighbor T came over, wearing a green Rams shirt, while I greeted him at the door in a gray Buffs shirt from last year's homecoming game. If our houses were connected, I'd probably get us some of those "house divided" split color t-shirts to wear. Honestly, I probably would anyway, since we have open-door policies and practically live together most of the time. We promised not to be mad at each other no matter which team won. By 11:30, when CU went up something like 45-31, we looked at each other and decided to go our separate ways and watch the end of the game from our respective beds. It was a fun game to watch, but man, we were exhausted by the end of it.

Now that this rivalry game is over, I can go back to cheering from a distance for CSU. I feel like they're our beloved cousins for whom I wish the best, but no way can the Buffs let up the gas at the annual family reunion competition. In return for our good-natured game viewing tonight, I can sit with T and cheer full-throated for the Chiefs at every game except when they play the Broncos. T and I are so happy football season has arrived. It heralds the beginning of fall, which is easily the best of all the seasons. I don't need pumpkin spice to tell me the good times have begun. I have football and stew. This is the time of year I live for.

Check Up

Inspirational song: Sandy (Grease)

It took until this morning for the epic referral saga to sort itself out. Not that the doctor's office called me to let me know there was still some doubt about the process. It wasn't until I arrived at 2:15 this afternoon that I learned that it was still in the air until mid-morning. I cannot imagine what the hold up was. I've been going to this same rheumatologist for three and a half years. Whatever.

It was so reassuring to finally be admitted through the magic door to see the actual medical staff, after all that meshugas. I hadn't gotten to see my favorite doctor since April, before the surgery. She saw me in my knitted cap said, "What happened? Last I heard you were just going to have radiation!" I gave her the whole story, including the good news that the rough treatment is over and the port was out (she could probably see the white bandage peeping out through the neckline of my shirt). We also reviewed all the medications I was supposed to be taking, if I hadn't just kind of stopped everything altogether while swallowing pills was too hard. Now that I've switched primary care docs, I felt okay getting a second opinion on all the supplements I'd been on. She gave me her blessing to stop a whole lot of things that didn't have a great deal of documentation for whether they were effective for lupus. I believe the way I phrased it was that I was happy not to spend a lot of money on expensive pee, for all the good some of the supplements were doing me. I'm back down to a total of like seven pills a day (including two that are twice a day). I'm not sure what I'll do with all that free time, not having to take so many things. It almost feels like being young and healthy again.

I'm healing well from having the port removed. It is so much easier than the implantation. I'm trying to leave it alone, especially when the incision itches, but it is impossible to be still and delicate any more. I had way too much of that. It's time to DO THINGS. ALL THE THINGS. I picked up some coarse grit sandpaper on the way to the doctor's office, so that I could spend this afternoon and evening working on the game table I'm making. I bet I'm not technically allowed to move quite so enthusiastically, but I have too much to get done before next Wednesday. I sanded the fool out of the side rails, and it felt great to be doing something useful. I'm going to focus much of the next few days on this, and it's going to be glorious.