#lookback

Friday gave us a rough start. M. woke at midnight with pain in his chest, and communicating tingling in his fingers. We packed up and headed off to the ER, as you do.

First time we've ever seen it completely empty. We were in and out in about three hours. They did all the tests you would expect, and all of them came back well in the green, so the attending thinks that it was likely something gastrointestinal, the pain of which can send "shockwaves" through the nerves, which is what he felt in his hands. He was feeling better not long after they got him settled.

We skipped the gym the following morning, for obvious reasons.

The rest of the day went more or less as planned. Took Rosie to the vet for her re-check, but found that her ear infections aren't quite cleared. New round of meds and steroids for her. She's not fond of the stuff that goes in her ears, but she likes the steroids just fine when mixed with a churu.

Popped by the thrift store to soothe my soul, and found this delightful hand-glazed batter bowl (c. 1992, according to the carving on the bottom.) There was a mixed set of other ceramics in a similar pattern, done by the same artist, but I didn't really have a use for any of them. Friday night we re-watched Mortal Kombat (2021), being unable to remember much from our first watch.

Saturday we packed lunches and spent another few hours at the lake, reading. I finally finished Death in Yellowstone by Lee H. Whittlesey (an interesting a concept, but an incredibly, incredibly dry read. It's more or less a laundry list of names and dates assembled by cause of death. I had to finish it through sheer force of will.) With that out of the way I was able to start Rosemary: The Hidden Kennedy Daughter by Kate Clifford Larson. I don't have the same fascination with the Kennedys as my Boomer parents, and frankly the book doesn't paint any of them in a particularly good light, but it's a much faster and more interesting read.

For awhile there I was afraid my attention span had deteriorated so badly from social media that I could no longer read for more than 8 minutes at a time, but no. It turns out Death in Yellowstone was just an awful book.

It was late afternoon by the time we left the lake, having resolved to buy a more permanent retractable awning for the Jeep. The setup we have now works well enough, and sets up pretty quickly, but it's a lot of trial-and-error, especially with any amount of wind. I could feel M. getting progressively more annoyed with it.

I ordered a set of luggage bars for the roofline, and a retractable awning that will clip right on and hopefully work more or less like a roller blind off the side of the car.

We had veggie burgers and French fries for dinner, polishing them off with some hard ciders. We debated sitting outside a bit more, but opted to watch Mortal Kombat II (2026) instead. Enjoyed both movies thoroughly, by the way. No idea why we didn't remember the first one.

Sunday I resolved to get back to Quaker meeting. I was surprised (but really pleasantly so) that M. wanted to join me. I put on my modest best and bonnet, and off we went.

It was lovely to be back. I needed it, I think, spiritually and otherwise. They had the doors open the whole time, and despite the noise from the nearby road you could still hear the trees in the wind, and feel the breeze. I'd forgotten about the big pot-bellied woodstove, so I'm already looking forward to cooler weather and the smell of woodsmoke. On nice days we're even close enough to walk.

Everyone welcomed us so enthusiastically, and we joined them for a quick potluck afterwards. Next week I'm going to bake up some cinnamon quickbread and bagels to share. I want to make a home there. It was a quiet Meeting, but deeply helpful to me, and I came away feeling restored and recentered.

After Meeting we did our grocery shopping, then dropped Mom's things off at hers. We'd planned on getting caught up on some cleaning, but it was so, so beautiful out, and we just wanted to enjoy the nice day.

We opted to walk around one of the nearby village centers. I bought a new blouse and a book. M. picked up a book for himself. We got a bottle of local cello on the way back.

Speaking of, I've been able to harvest the first few raspberries of the season. I think it will be a smaller yield this year (I didn't get the chance to tip the canes), but they're coming along nicely, and so far no trouble from the birds (or at least not enough to notice). Still keeping my eye on the elderberries. If I get one good tart out of them this year, I'll be very pleased. The fig is doing well, and even has three little fruits on it All the pumpkins are coming along, and the plant that I initially thought was a butternut squash, but is actually a cucumber (blech) is growing well. M. has volunteered to eat any cucumbers that come out of it. Throwing himself on the sword, if you ask me.

The first little potato sprouts are starting to come up, as well! I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. Both basil plants are also perked up, and appear to be growing, as well. The strawberries, as per usual, remain determined not to grow a damned thing, even when asked so, so nicely. The tomatoes are already producing nice fat fruit, still green but probably not too far away from being ready to pick.

The new blackberries ship this week, I'd love to get them in the ground this weekend. I highly doubt they'll ship with berries, but who knows!

I don't like to county my chickens, but a little harvest spread of figs, berries, pumpkin pie and an elderberry tart would make me so, so happy.

One of my ruminations during Meeting was actually--in a roundabout way--about the plum tree. I'm still trying to dig around for an answer as to when we planted it (it would have been the summer of 2020 or 2021, I think--maybe I can go through our garden photos...), but it's definitely of an age when it should be producing at least some fruit.

I made excuses for it, for several years (too new, had a really dry summer...) and this year was the first it actually produced a half-decent spray of flowers... but still no sign of fruit. I want to give it the benefit of the doubt, and I hate to quit on it--it's a lovely little tree--but there is only so much garden space, and so many years of my life I'm willing to waste waiting for fruit. Even with just the single tree, I feel like it should have done something by now.

I figured I'd give it one more year, but if I dig into the planting date and find that we actually planted it in 2020 (making it at least 6 years old--it wasn't exactly planted from seed!) then this might be the last year. The space it occupies could be home to two more fig trees, which would mean a greater abundance of figs overall.

Sunday we had a quick dinner, then went back outside to read and enjoy the easing temperatures. Then my Mother texted me that she'd gotten two pills stuck in her throat, and needed to go to the ER. So, off I went.

By a stroke of luck, she managed to swallow them just as we got to the ER. I had her drink some water to be absolutely sure they were down, and then took her back home. She kept apologizing over and over, saying how stupid she felt, and I reminded her that I didn't care. That it wasn't legitimate medical needs that bothered me. That it was, always had been, and always would be her substance abuse.

We had a brief and completely unproductive blowup. She continues to dodge accountability. Always has an excuse at the ready. She believes her own lies so thoroughly, and has told them so many times, to so many people, that she forgets I was there for some of the things she's lying about. That I witnessed events with my own eyes. That I held pills in my own hand.

Anyway. No sense in dwelling on it now. She won't change.

Got Jim to and from another appointment this morning. Next Tuesday both of them have appointments almost back to back. I'm working hard to look for options for them, but I'm a little terrified that they're going to hit a financial brick wall, and then I'm not sure what to do.

I was unexpectedly sick over the weekend, so we had to cancel our lunch plans, but I felt well enough to do some much-needed cleanup in the back yard. We got the fig tree planted, trussed up the raspberries, and mulched the entire property. Cleaned up the raised bed, purchased two more stainless steel planters for potatoes, and got pumpkin seeds in the ground.

I was also able to put some protective fencing around all the trees, and a plastic guard around the plum that Fidget tried to take out last year. Despite flowering, I still don't see any evidence of plums actually growing. An arborist we had out to inspect our silver maple said the timing of the frost meant no apples this year, but I think they're still settling into their new beds.

I've spent this week cleaning and making preparations head of the trip to Denver. I also, somehow, managed to lose one of my car key fobs. I've searched high and low, no idea where it could be. I actually suspect it fell out of my purse while we were at the store, so it may be gone for good. I reached out to the dealership to get a new one.

Also got a prescription for HRT, and sorted out out-of-pocket payment for that. Not sure when that's due to arrive, but we'll see what comes of it.

I'm finally starting to feel as if the regular strength training is "doing something," and I'm curious if the HRT will play a role at all. Everything is slow going now, even the most strenuous changes take forever to yield results, but it's got to be done. We are running out of "I'll Start Tomorrow"s, and I don't plan to be idle.

In fact, recounting to the virtual doc about what I'm doing to "keep myself afloat" at this transitional time was actually very encouraging. The veganism, the careful planning of calories, fat, protein, iron, calcium, the strength training and the cardio, the way I'm looking after my skin.

I loathe overconfidence, I think it's just begging to have your house of cards toppled in the most traumatic way, but I'm as at peace as I think I have a right to be.

AI is in the news everywhere, all the time, you can't escape it. I can't even escpae it in my real life, being so integral to my job, so I'm trying to make peace with it. Use it to my advantage, when I can, without sacrificing my personal integrity. But it's still hard.

Being away from social media has helped. I thought I'd miss Instagram, and I really don't. I use Facebook and Discord only at a bare minimum, and that suits me.

My neighbor recently shared a spate of Facebook posts decrying data centers... with images that were clearly AI-generated, from an account that is 99.9% AI content. Someone is out there generating AI content for a FB account dedicated to protesting AI. And probably making bank on it, somehow.

I wish I liked people more, but I don't. We're so disconnected from each other, from the Earth, from life around us. It's sad and discouraging.

Anyway. I whipped up a batch of bagels to tide Marc through the remainder of this week, and I think I've finally got the recipe nailed down. When we get back I'll put on another two loaves of breakfast bread, and some sandwich rolls.

We debated what to do. There was no moving her, obviously, but she'd picked a pretty inconvenient spot. Would we have to keep Fidget (our resident feral) trapped inside until the eggs hatched? Would we be able to continue using the front door, or would it upset her, causing her to abandon the eggs. Would the porch light bother her?

I consulted with some online experts before we made any decisions, and the advice was: don't do anything. She's tenacious, she scouted this location for quite awhile before deciding on it, and she knows exactly where to go when the eggs hatch. The biggest threat to her was raccoons and foxes.

We opted to leave the porch light on, since it's a natural deterrent, but apart from encircling the nesting site with cayenne pepper, we left her alone. We also had to ask the neighbors to please ask their children to leave her alone, because one of them was already caught chasing her around. I'll keep my opinions on that to myself.

We had a pre-scheduled window installation that carried on with only a little drama, and--as promised--even when she was flustered off the nest, she promptly returned. She was gone for such long periods in the beginning, including on some very cold nights, that there were moments I was sure she'd abandoned the eggs. But she always came back.

We called her Maia. Good mother.

Before she settled in for the long incubation, we counted 9 eggs. Earlier this week, our neighbor sent us another text that the eggs had hatched.

And there they were. 9 fuzzy little ping-pong-ball babies, huddling and bobbling around her as she moved from one side of the planter to the other. We only stayed long enough to get a few quick pictures, then left her alone, for fear of stressing her out. Maybe an hour later, she and the ducklings were completely gone. All nine eggs had hatched.

We walked to the nearest retaining pond, but didn't see them. There's quite a bit of good grass cover, however, so she may have just been hunkered down for the afternoon, already. Good luck, babies. I love you, but boy am I glad you're gone.

The fig tree got delivered this week, as well, and M. got it into the ground. This weekend is supposed to be beautiful, so--after regretfully canceling some plans, on account of being sick as a dog--we're looking forward to doing some light gardening and upkeep. The blackberries are delayed until late June, which is fine, but I'll hopefully get some pumpkins in the ground, at least.

Which reminds me, I need to dig around in the freezer and see if I've got any of last season's puree kicking around. If so, time to make some pumpkin muffins.

Had the maple tree inspected by an arborist, who gave it a clean bill of health, and arranged to have it trimmed in the coming weeks.

Another happy surprise: I finally ran into the couple that owns the house with the pear tree. Several years ago I approached the old owner about an abundance of pears, and she let me take a bushel home. I went to them with the same offer, and they were equally open to letting me have some, when the time comes. So I'm looking forward to bringing them some nice bear bread, pear butter, and some pearberry cello, once everything has reached its season.

I also spent a good bit of time this week going through all the boxes of art supplies and other miscellany in the office, making a big pile of stuff to sell at a community yard sale in June. Whatever doesn't get sold will get sent off to thrift. I've managed to clear out an entire bookshelf, and consolidate everything else. It feels freeing, and I'll be glad to see it all gone.

Dinner and drinks tonight at Our Place, and then time in the garden tomorrow. When we're done outside, there's a whole attic of stuff we can declutter and clear out.

A film by Hirokazu Kore-eda