Burros

This is not what I had intended to post today but the other one is not quite ready. Hopefully tomorrow. In the meantime I'll share this photo.


Zeus and I just returned from a five day trip to our old stomping grounds in southern Arizona. The town of Ajo was once home to a thriving copper mine. It is now a winter home to northern snowbirds and an ever increasing population of Border Patrol and Homeland Security.



During the old mining days burros were used in the hauling of ore, or something like that. At some point they were replaced with trucks and other heavy equipment. The unneeded burros were turned out into the surrounding mountains and became wild.


In twenty years of living in Ajo my brother-in-law has never seen these animals, even living as close as they do to the edge of town. Leaving his home one afternoon Zeus noticed a herd of seven beautiful burros wandering out on the desert. They stood nervously as I took their photos until I got one step too close. Then they trotted back out to the hills.


It is good to be home.

Done and Done.

Our beastly cold weather, along with the cold that turned me into a beast, kept me in the house for about three weeks. I spent much of the time finishing the knitting project that was started after the holidays.

I haven't quite decided if I prefer knitting over crochet. They are very different forms of needlework, each with advantages. But oh, I do love the cable knits.

The other "done" is the book series Chronicles of Narnia. I started reading these way back when. A set of BBC dvds that were given to us at Christmas that spurred me to finish them up.
I have watched one of the dvds and really enjoyed it.

So many things on my list are waiting to be completed. Two flannel pj quilts are cut out and sitting on my sewing machine. Hopefully there will be another "done" soon.

$1.12 plus .32

Treatment progress note: Three weeks in and my face hasn't fallen off yet! Swelling, redness and burning on the right side, but so far not too noticeable. Not nearly as worried anymore.

The creation of a dimple

Here goes. Lots happening in the last three weeks and it's time that I write about it.

I have spent my life in the sun, especially summers at the pool. From the time I was young I relished playing in the water and being with friends and family. Sunburns were not unusual, especially on the ski slopes where the white snow reflected all those rays right back at my unprotected face. I wore my deep, dark tans proudly. Sunscreen? For sissies.

In the last few years I started using a good screen daily, both summer and winter. Too little, too late. On December 22nd the doctor patted my knee as he smiled and used the words "I'm sorry" and "melanoma" in one sentence. He was then quick to reassure me that we would grow old together and become very personally acquainted. (I love this guy.) He also explained that even though it was caught very early I would be referred immediately to the Huntsman Cancer Institute for treatment.

Let me introduce you to Melanoma in situ. This was taken in July. Today it is just a red spot, barely noticable after the biopsy.

I had watched this spot grow on my cheek from nothing to pea-size for about two years. It was not a mole, just a new spot that resembled my many other freckles. Over the last six months it doubled in size and took on some dark and irregular features. Still, the doctor and I were surprised when the results came back.

Waiting the long three weeks for the appointment at HCI was difficult. They had already told me what the treatment plan would be and after researching both the medication to be used and the eventual surgery I was terrified. Athena and Eris warned me to stay away from the horror stories found on the internet. I took their advice and felt much better after that.

The idea that there are malignant cancer cells lurking in my cheek like an oil slick is disconcerting. The reality is that I am extremely lucky that it is Stage 0 and 95-100% curable. The plan of attack is in three stages: topical chemo for two months to reduce the size of the tumor, two months for the chemo damage to heal and then surgery. The first stage was started last night and I will admit that there were a few tears shed when I spread that cream all over my cheek knowing what it would do to my skin.

Dad lost his short battle with lymphoma but Mom is a 16 year survivor of breast cancer. Two years ago I watched in awe as Zeus went through his successful (and unpleasant) prostate cancer treatment. I am surrounded by supportive family and friends who will stand by me while I navigate this very small bump in the road. For that I am more grateful than words can express.

The plan is for treatment to be finished by the time the pool opens in June. I'll be there with SPF 150 on my face, a large hat and a t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Put On The Sunscreen, Stupid" on both front and back! The bikes, kayaks and running shoes will be back in service.

And hopefully I will be sporting that new dimple on my right cheek that I've always wanted!


$??.?

(due to a persistent cold, both in my chest and outside, the numismatizing has not gone well. The few ralks I've done were not very productive and not ready for counting. Hoping for a fresh start soon.)

K 2, [P 2, K 2] 4 times

She asked for gift suggestions. The answer was "a knitting kit". At first she didn't believe me. On Christmas morning I was excited to receive a box with a skein of yarn and a book titled "My Knitting Teacher".

At the age of twelve I learned to knit a pair of slippers in a church class. They were white with red variegated threads. The pattern was simple with only knit and purl stitches required. Knitting needles never graced my hands after that.

Over the years I did lots of crochet work. Afghans, baby clothes and booties, doilies and pillowcase trims came easily. But knitting remained a mystery. Dropped stitches, counting rows and getting the gauge correct were intimidating.

Last night the box was opened and I started casting on. The basic knit and purl stitches came easily. The ribbed stitches were correct. But the cable pattern looked impossible. The first attempt was a disaster so I set my practice piece down and went to bed.

Tonight I picked it up again, determined to conquer. Four cables later I'm feeling pretty cocky! Zeus has already requested a sweater.

$2.25

I'm sorry.

One of my internet acquaintances Sharyn, a fellow quilter who makes incredible quilts had an interesting post a few weeks ago. We are about the same age and her post was titled "I'm so over it". Simple yet very thought provoking.

Zeus and I talk a lot, especially when I'm trying to work through a difficult situation. Last night we had a long discussion about how things change over the course of time, often going in ways that are totally unexpected. We dissected the idea of planning for the future, working toward those goals but also realizing there are no guarantees that those plans will come to fruition.

On the other side of the future is the past. The past cannot be altered. It happened. The only thing I can do about the past is learn from it, make any amends possible and then try not to make those mistakes again. But I can say I am sorry.



1. I'm sorry that I sniffed out the brick of dipping chocolate and ate chunks at a time when I was a kid.

2. I'm sorry that I used to peek at Christmas gifts and ruined the surprise. Lesson learned.

3. I'm sorry that I photoshopped ten pounds and a double chin off of me but not you.

4. I'm sorry that I said that mean thing to you.

5. I'm sorry that I didn't know about thrift stores sooner.

6. I'm sorry that the little squirrel ran in front of my car and got squished.

7. I'm sorry that my religious beliefs/political opinions are not the same as yours and that this might cause you pain.

8. I'm sorry that I didn't climb Mt. Ben Lomond last year. Maybe this year?

9. I'm sorry that I misjudged you.

10. I'm sorry that the frozen tomato plant is still in the backyard waiting to ripen and you are still looking at it.

11. I'm sorry that my car was so disgustingly messy when you rode in it.

12. I'm sorry that you missed the opportunity to participate in their lives.

13. I'm sorry that you wanted to pass me on the road and I wouldn't let you.

14. I'm sorry that I graduated from a college and not a university. Wait. No, I'm not.

15. I'm sorry that there are only 24 hours in a day and that summer vacation is only three months long.

16. I'm sorry that I haven't finished those projects that I've started.

17. I'm sorry that I'm not in Hawaii.

18. I'm sorry that they grow up so fast.

19. I'm sorry that I can't fix it all.

20. .................


Now I need to get over it.

It's what I do.

Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of giving a short speech about Little Ms. In front of people. People who intimidated me. At a church. Not my church. Whoo boy, that was scary.


After fretting about it for months (yes, months) I came up with a plan. A devious plan. If I stood in front of that group holding up photos of Little Ms. all of those people would be looking at the images and hopefully wouldn't notice the papers rattling in my shaking hands. It was hard to choose eight of my favorite images of her to share but I finally settled on some that best described her personality. The little tribute went off without a hitch and no one seemed to notice, or at least didn't comment on the sweaty forehead.

In cruising through my scrapbooks that week I realized that my all time favorite photos are those that tell a story. The child sitting on the edge of a cliff wearing a harness. Athena and Eris lovingly planting kisses on top of Zeus' balding head. The shadow of a bride and groom walking down the sidewalk. The sweaty faces of bike riders who just completed a feat they never thought possible. The runner caught mid-stride in the air. A father's face as he bathes his newborn baby for the first time.

The stories of my life. Printed. Shared with others. It's what I do.

Click! Click! Click!

Each day during the month of December I look forward to the late afternoon. From 5:00 pm to 5:15 pm the clicking begins. Timers set all over the house take turns tripping and lights begin to go on. The strands of garland, wreaths and our skinny old tree are strung with white lights that cast eerie shadows on the walls. At 11:00 pm the clicking begins again as they all turn off.

Eight timers in all, including one for the two wreaths that adorn the front of the house and one for the wreath in the lair window that only my neighbor can see.

I love all the light. I'm thinking of leaving the tree up all year in the Stupid Room (again, a future post).

$2.51
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3.24
1.69
1.28