Autumn

Remember me? 

Hi There.

Been awhile.

Sorry.
I got a couple of nudges lately that I haven't been keeping my blog up and that I should do so.

Life was busy there for a moment. But here I am, writing to you from my own time and space. Same me, same house, same sweet husband. All is well with us. Life has just been really, really busy.

Some family stuff came up recently. Mostly I've been concerned about my brother-in-law, who suffered a stroke a few months back. That same week, my "little" sister-in-law had her baby entirely too early. We weren't sure what was going to happen with such a little micro-preemie and both my SIL and niecelet were sick, sick, sick.

But they are tough, tough, tough.

You know what? Everyone is fine.

It makes me a little happy-weepy to say that. Weeks in the hospital for everyone. ICU, NICU, FYI... And they're all home from the hospital.  My niece "Little G", is up to 5 pounds thanks to her very persistent mom and dad, a saint of a doctor, and (probably) a highly dedicated team of nurses.
When all this was going down, G thought he might pop on out to either Atlanta or Louisiana to help out. We just didn't know what to do. This is the price we pay for living so far from Gs family; there's  no easy way to head on over to the right coast. His dad went to my BILs side and his mom took my older niece while everyone was hospitalized.

If you're reading this and you're of the spiritual, religious, or praying sort, please send up a big "thank you". I know I am really glad, really grateful and really relieved.

So that's the big thing on my end. I guess it takes a lot of energy to hold your breath.

Work is good. I do love it. I've gotten to meet some interesting characters. Hopefully, someone somewhere says "She's an interesting character".  And I feel more "normal" in my job. I began the way anyone should: by listening to the administrative assistant. Our office has three secretarial types. They are fantastic and know what they're doing. You never, ever want to ignore your admin. And I knew this going in. She sometimes makes a gentle suggestion and I always take that advice.

Ok, enough updates. Let me throw in a few photos to catch you up, and I promise I'll write sooner rather than later.

Lucy is a snuggler. Her favorite snuggle time is 4 a.m. The rest of the time, she's a little spooky. 

Yes, we're at a RODEO! 

This is the "before" of one of the night stands I am rehabbing. 

Here is an "in progress" photo of the same night stands. The color isn't this dark. It's deep blue. 

My buddy Rich and I on "National Coming Out Day". My shirt says "Ally".

Today we went to our first powwow in Washington state. Met some really nice people! 

Black Lives Matter

I get up most mornings between 5:30 and 6.  I just naturally wake up early.  This is a new thing in the last year, as I've always been something of a night owl.  In any case, I usually get up, make myself a bit of coffee, and head to the gym. My normal routine there is a bit of cardio and then a bit of weight lifting. Then home, breakfast, and off to dive into my work day.  It's a nice routine. Healthy.  Since I'm at the gym early and since I don't really want to talk to humans that time of day, I haven't made many friends. I'm one of the regulars. Me and the old timers do our stuff and go.  There are a couple of bro dudes who continue to swell their pectorals and utter guttural phrases such as "gotta get swole" and "I'm doing two-a-days this week. Gotta get a tiny waist."  There is a younger guy, perhaps in his early twenties, and his buddy and possibly bro dude mentor, in his late 30s to 40s.  For some reason, Tom Petty's "I Won't Back Down" is the older bro dude's favorite song.  Why do I know that? Because I didn't have my music turned up high enough. They are sort of intimidating at first, due to the dropping of weights and profound advice, but I got used to them. On the other hand, I actively enjoy the morning crew: Pat, who is the only person to talk to me, is retired and is traveling to Germany and Turkey next year; old guy #1, #2, and #3, all of whom do cardio for like a minute, then circulate chatting about agriculture and investments while periodically lifting a weight and scratching. They all have those old Navy style tattoos like "Mom" and the eagle with where they were stationed on their biceps.  There's Seahawks gal who wears head to toe gear every day. She's got style. I have a place too: sleepy sweaty woman who never talks.

There have been recent changes at my gym. New owners, one a personal trainer and the other a former police officer.

I don't like change, not this kind.  I like the old owner; he always says good morning to me and is both peppy and mellow. He sort of sets the vibe in the room to "chill".

Some of the changes are good.  There is more emphasis and space for the personal trainers. There are now books on nutrition and training available. They tried offering daycare, even though that didn't work out.  And there's a push for better equipment and more group fitness classes.

And a problem: There's a free for all board where members can anonymously write whatever is on their minds. I like that, for the most part. I commented on how women feel comfortable working out there. But one week there was a comment about one of the staff members.  That he was hot chocolate.  Another member commented assent. This went on for two weeks. I don't like the idea of objectifying people or commenting on their hotness (or coldness?), and this made me uncomfortable. I'm pretty sure if this were a female they were commenting on, it would have been erased quickly.

And another problem. There are now printed signs everywhere that say "Law Enforcement Lives Matter. We support all law enforcement, all the time".

Please bear with me. I support law enforcement. They are necessary to the functioning of a just society.  They are to protect and serve. I won't go on ad nauseam about this. I will say that my family has a long history of both law enforcement and military service.  Believe me, I get it. I know that there are good ones and bad ones.

What I don't "get", what makes me disagree, what makes me uncomfortable enough to keep me awake at night, is the idea that police are above the law, that they are above accountability and reproach.  That men like Eric Garner can be choked to death with no arrest, with no inquiry, with no justice even though this was recorded and even though if this was done by non-police, it's most likely that two people would be standing trial for murder.

I wish they would change that sign to "We Support All Law Enforcement, except when they abuse their power, because we believe in them so much that we hold them to the highest ethical standards."

Here's what happened yesterday, though. An older guy at the gym, who is there maybe two mornings a week, came in wearing this:

If you don't know what this is, it's a reference to the death of Eric Garner, who was choked by police- on film (warning: graphic video)- and saying "I can't breathe!"  He was not resisting at all and they choked him to death. To death. No charges. Why were they arresting him? Possibly for selling cigarettes. And here is this man, wearing a shirt MOCKING the death of someone at the hands of bullies who have no business being police officers. Bullying others who might think of stepping out of line.  I mean, according to this logic, I could and perhaps should be shot for speeding. Or jaywalking. Or participating in an act of disobedience against an unjust law.  Or selling cigarettes, or being a prostitute, or a drug user. Or being Black.

The shock of this message did take my breath away.

I'm going to offer several links related to statistics and the death of black men in our country.  Yes, I am going there. Go there with me. Or keep reading and catch them later. Just remember: I don't particularly trust the media but I do trust statistics.

http://www.theroot.com/articles/culture/2014/10/young_black_men_21_times_more_likely_to_be_shot_dead_by_police_than_whites.html

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-32740523

http://www.cnn.com/2014/12/02/politics/kristoff-oreilly-police-shooting-numbers-fact-check/

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2014/12/02/1348891/-Fox-Distorting-the-Stats-on-Police-Killings-of-Black-People-Again#

http://fivethirtyeight.com/datalab/blacks-are-killed-at-a-higher-rate-in-south-carolina-and-the-u-s/

http://www.bustle.com/articles/36096-do-police-shoot-black-men-more-often-statistics-say-yes-absolutely

http://mediamatters.org/blog/2015/04/08/oreilly-cherry-picks-debunked-statistics-to-dow/203223

I was pretty incensed by this shirt, and by the privileged and arrogant position this person takes. Yes, it's a free country. Yes, he has the right to free speech. But I also have a right to be outraged by someone with the audacity to say that if you break the law at all, you deserve to be murdered. That your life doesn't matter. And that due process of law means that the police are judge, jury, and executioner.  Due process. That's what I demand. Due process for everyone.

But mostly, I'm sad. At the lack of compassion and understanding by both this business and the human being who finds it necessary to wear bigoted clothing. I hope he someday, somehow, feels really ashamed of himself.

And I'm really proud of myself for not getting in his face. But perhaps he needs that. Perhaps he, like so many of us, is just ignorant. And perhaps I would have beat the snot out of him and gone to jail.

Instead, next week, all week, I'm going to wear my own shirt; one I bought a few weeks ago. Because if you need to advertise who you are, then perhaps you need to know who I am as well.

We all matter. Not some of us; all of us. Nobody matters more than anyone else. Black Lives Matter.

I wore this shirt last Friday on campus. I was in the student union making small talk with a group of students. Another person came up and complimented me on my shirt. Then he said "All lives matter."  "Yes," I said, "but today we're talking about Black lives."  "Right on." Yes, white people can have conversations about race. And it's time we did because it's not the job of non-white people to explain this to us. Or convince us. The evidence is all around us, but we've been trained not to see, so I'm making the invisible visible.

Maybe it doesn't matter at all if I wear my shirt. It's not a huge protest. It's not getting in a bigot's face, because that's not going to change his heart. But it's my thing, because I cannot be silent about casual racism and bigotry. The little things are sometimes big things.

Manastash

I'm going to upload a few more photos today of a hike to Manastash. Let me give you a topographical view first.

Manastash is south and east of town, just a few miles. It's not a straight up and down climb, per se, but it is pretty close.  All told, the hike from bottom to top is only about 2.5 miles. The Washington Trails Association says 4 miles out and back, but my fitbit says different. The elevation gain is 1,700 feet. And yeah, my hamstrings will tell you that's about right! The 4-5 miles is really doable for a beginner, but the vertical change is insane and if this is a first hike for you, just go part way.

Here is the view of top from the bottom.  Doesn't look like much.

Here is the view of the bottom from the top.  A little more impressive.  And look at those wildflowers!

Add caption

This is about 1/4 of the way up.

 Looking back from the 1/4 marker.

No, I haven't tilted the camera. That's the vertical change. Husband for scale.

 Nothing to see here, just a bunch of gorgeous wildflowers and their buzzing bees running the world.

 Trees that grow on an angle.

This is after the hard part of climbing, about 3/4 of the way there.

 At the top, looking West towards Seattle. That road leads to Leavenworth through those mountains.

 Looking East towards Kittitas.

And a perfect little cactus flower no bigger than the palm of my hand.

And just because they are enchanting, pictures of the flora decorating our path.

Onward

This has been an interesting couple of weeks.

It's been like the weather; a dump of snow, then a melt, then a bunch of sunny days and back to winter.

I love the view from the English department

There is something about Ponderosa Pine trees in the snow

I'm not so good at the phone phocus

Mmmm, winter!

This is my new "I Love Winter" necklace. 

Before Christmas, G went to the doctor because his voice was cutting out. He was snoring so loud I could hear him from downstairs. Sometimes, it felt like something was stuck in his throat.

When I say "he went to the doctor", I mean that he doesn't really do that unless he feels it's necessary. But he went. She sent him to a specialist, an otolaryngologist. He took a look; stuck a doohickey (sorry for the technical term) down his nose and took a peek. Said "that needs to come out."

Wait, what? What needs to come out? Huh?

Some sort of growth. A burst polyp.  You can get polyps in lots of place on your body. Colon, nose, throat, places like that. This one nestled on top of Gs vocal chords.

The Oto said this needs to come out now; G said "Let's wait until after Christmas".  He scheduled the surgery for the second week of January.

While Christmas was fun and traveling is exciting, I had a low-level worry the whole time. Like when you know there's a sliver stuck in your toe or something. Can't do anything about it but you always know it's there and try not to worry.

The surgery was really efficient. We arrived at the outpatient surgery center at 7; we left at 10. G had never had a surgery before. He said the hardest part was getting the IV put in. That man. The doctor told me that the polyp was larger than he thought and that in a week we'd know if it was malignant of benign.

Anyway, thus began three days of no talking and another week of low-level worry. I tried to teach him a little bit of sign language but G figured that I'm good at context clues and lip reading and that for the rest he could trace letters in the air or text me.  Sometimes this was hilarious and effective. Sometimes this was hilarious and frustrating.  Sometimes I just made up stuff he would never say, like "Don't you think it's time we bought a farm in the country", and "Seriously, can you make me a well-done steak?"

He lived. He ate popsicles.  He had to stay home for those three days and while I was at work, on the first damn day, he drove himself to McDonalds and wrote a note for a caramel frappe.  What the ham sandwich?!!

I went to his boss and explained that while he could be at work Thursday and Friday of last week, he couldn't talk. It wasn't a problem. When he went back to work, G reports that he used an entire pack of post-it notes answering questions.  They were not yes or not questions, apparently. And his boss doesn't exactly use email.

So on Dr. King's birthday (which I usually write about but this year I suck), we went back for the test results.

Benign.

But then the sun came out and it was 51 degrees.

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Confession: I don't have a "low" level setting for worrying. It's sort of my hobby and preoccupation. I like to pretend that I don't worry about things. However, once I set my mind to it, I can worry about just about anything.

Like Eleanor, the sweetest kitty and my best little friend of 18 years, who does have cancer.

I have a full blood panel done on her every 6 months. In May, all was clear. In November, it showed on the CBC.

I am sorry, readers. I just didn't know how to tell you.

She's doing ok, really. Doesn't eat very much. throws up more often. I give her medicine to stimulate her appetite and suppress the vomiting, though it will shorten her lifespan. This could take months or a year or just a few weeks.

When we went to Europe, she stayed with my friend Joy. Joy asked if I wanted to know during the trip if Eleanor died. Yes. Yes, of course I wanted to know that very instant. G was not in favor of this. But no, I couldn't have gone a day without worrying that this day it had happened and I didn't know.  It would have ruined the trip for me.  So Joy promised to tell me and sent me picture after picture of Eleanor, with her daughter, with her, eating, and sleeping on her heating pad. Yes, I sent the heating pad and that wonderful and afghan along to comfort her.  And I set up with my vet that if she needed any kitty health care, she would have it.

This is an exercise in not worrying for me. I don't know the source of the cancer and I'm not going to. I don't want to put her through a bunch of tests. It's not like she is healthy enough for them to remove a growth or even put her under anesthetic. And when the time comes, I'm going to see if the vet will come to the house to help her through those final, awful hours rather than taking her out of the comfort of home.

Until then, I am awakened every morning to what I term "aggressive snuggling".  Eleanor still gets around well and can navigate the stairs.  She sleeps on the bed and wakes me up by purring, then laying on the pillow with me and napping a bit.  Then she puts her face by mine.  Then I pet her. Then she nudges me with her head until I either keep petting her or get up to give her food and/or water. Personally, I think she's using cancer to get into more mischief and get away with it.  Now she'll sit beside me in the kitchen and head butt me until I feed her. She used to get squirted with water if she was a pest. Now I just can't. And somehow, she.knows.it.

I'm going to need you to feed me some tuna. By hand.

G is not buying it. Yes, he adores Eleanor. Yes, he will pet her all day and clean up vomit and make a run to the grocery store for me to get cans of the particular food that she's into (while ignoring the 90 other flavors in the pantry).  But when she's bad, she still gets a little squirt of water. I know this because when I told him about her condition, I proclaimed announced that from here on out, she wouldn't ever get into trouble again, he may have quietly chuffed. I didn't hear that part because emotions. But last week, I was petting the sweetest kitty in the world and telling her how awesome she is, and noticed her fur was wet. "Did you give Eleanor a drink?"
"In a sense."
"...?"
"She scratched on the bathroom door. She got squirted."
"But.....cancer!"
"She's well enough to be a bad cat; she's well enough to pay the consequences."
Heh.

But I'm still going to worry.

Catch up!

Catching Up!

Life is moving fast, so I'm going to hit a few highlights and add lots of pictures. Sound ok?

 As it cools down outside, my tea love spouts again. Actually, I started drinking hot tea to help get me in the fall mood, even though it was over 80 outside then.  I love this mug, and if I'm honest, all things owl. My husband doesn't, so I keep all my cool owl stuff at work.

 My little kitty is certainly aware of how cute she is.  This is how she gets people to cuddle when they're running late.

 I snapped this on campus. The science building is lovely, and even mores with bright trees turning color out front.

 Eleanor is running out of fall days where it's warm enough to go outside. Almost every day she demands a few minutes out in the autumn air. On the porch, away from bugs and dirt.

 Saturday mornings are our sleep in days. I love to get up before G, make a strong pot of coffee, and whip up some breakfast in bed.  This is my favorite. His favorite is- always- blueberry pancakes.

 Yup. Still knows she's cute.

 This is the building where I work, taken from the south side.

 This little creek runs all over town and is part of my daily commute.  By "commute" I mean that both G and I walk to work.

 Hello Fall! This is right outside of city hall and half a block from home.

 This concoction is butternut squash and apple soup. It was delicious. We finally got a crock pot!

 Closer picture of my building. There is no bottom floor on the bottom. All this is just the middle joiners of two buildings- one on either side of the camera's view. My office is on that top floor on the right.

 Maybe not a GREAT view, but the window opens wide.

 Ready for fall, it just hasn't happened yet!

 As the faculty affiliate for women's softball, I go to as many games as I can. We had one two weekends ago- just exhibition games. G is gracious and goes with me.

 This is Barge, the oldest and most beautiful building on campus.

 Snuggle time.

 Fall means the roses are fewer and farther between, and also more dramatic.

 Yellow roses always remind me of my sister, Patti.

 Part of my commute.  One of my bloggy friends reminded me of how lucky I am to live in an absolutely beautiful part of the world. I couldn't agree more.

Speaking of beautiful, look at that cup of coffee!  Just kidding. The other thing I am so, so grateful for is the opportunity to work in the same place as my husband. We get to have lunch together several times a week too. Doesn't he look like Sam the Eagle from the Muppets?

Well, that's my catch up. Hope you are enjoying fall as much as I am. Fall is almost my favorite time of year. I can't WAIT for the snow to start falling. I'm hoping for a really cold, really snowy year. Wish us luck!