Sunday, September 27, 2015

yamhill nights

Last Saturday night we were ready to head out for a motorcycle ride when our neighbor Jim showed up on a Gynormous backhoe. I hear from the bedroom, where I'm putting on real clothes, "Honey, we're not goin' anywhere." I walked out into the living room to see Kurt, Benny and Kevin wrapping chains around the arbor-vitae hedge that was impeding my sunset view and popping them out one by one, easy as pie. I didn't like the looks of it. Juniper, whatever it is. Nasty stuff, all overgrown and buggy. And now its gone. Just like that. Country folks who don't want pay. I offered pie, but everybody is diabetic and serious about it.

This Friday night it was the Yamhill Volunteer Firefighter's fundraiser with hot dogs and hamburgers; Saturday all the way to Carlton -- 3 miles-- for the Carlton Fire Spaghetti feed, only we went to the wrong place and had a banquet with the FFA at the Carlton Foreign Legion Hall. Pork, done right. Somebody's hog, I'm guessing. Piles of food. We live in carnivore heaven. All the same people were there. We're just part of the wallpaper now. Only we are democrats. On this I will not compromise. The notion that you can't be good country folk and be democrats is nonsense.

Donald Trump WTF?

Tonight is the Blood Moon Eclipse. We're going up into the hills to watch moonrise. It should be good. The weather is clear. We'll go up on top of Bald Peak and see what we can see.

Well, my boobs are holding together, knitting slowly. And separately. I don't want to give the impression that they are knitting together-together. ew. I am finally able to sleep at night without dread of another explosion. I believe I am out of the woods at last. What a process. Even my surgeon hadn't seen anything like it. But the radiation burns I suffered were intense. I think if she'd known the severity, she may not have gone ahead with the surgery and I wouldn't have my nice little boobettes and that would be sad.

Yesterday I spent the better part of the day tearing through my closet, my years and years of collections,  fabulous and expensive clothing that will never fit me again. Wide, wonderful things that kept my body secret for years and years. Now, I have room for my skeletons...

Monday, September 07, 2015


I suspect the sunsets are like this in big dirty cities, a bright orange dot of fire sliding down the smoky sky. I lost my view, completely obstructed by thick gray air. Even when the wind came up, the smoke held its ground. I can only imagine the Rogue Valley right now. I remember clearly whole months of smoke, each night a ring of fire encircling the valley, the sky brown as cocoa. There is a fire in Willemina, a tiny town to our north, I think. And Washington has lots of them, and the John Day fire is burning to the ground. This is late summer in Oregon. The newscasters seem startled and afraid, but those of us who have endured eons of lightening and dry grass are not surprised. Its probably worse due to climate change. Most weather related events are. Medford is now Death Valley and Portland is becoming Medford. Keep going north.

Well, they stitched me back together and it seems to be holding so far. I went back to work a week ago -- too soon, of course. These back to back surgeries seems to have kicked my ass. I am more than tired.


and again.... it is Monday, the last day of a four day weekend. Itook friday off, and half of thursday to be honest, to finally haul our little trailer to the coast for a long, relaxing stay. As we pulled out of Yamhill toward Carlton, it began to sprinkle. We didn't care. We have a trailer. I was desperately in need of a non-surgical time away from work. We reserved spots at Beverly Beach and landed right in the middle of a beautiful sunny day. We got set up, drove to Newport to check out the crabbing scene, and returned for a dinner of boiled hot dogs. Fire ban and all still in place, the entire northwest going up in flames. Then, as luck would have it, I was uncomfortable in the middle of the night, twisted just so and POP goes the tit. I just started crying, sat up, and Kurt tried to help me settle down. We performed frontier medicine with paper towels and ditch water -- not really, Annie -- but it wasn't under prime conditions  at 3:03 in the a.m. that he told me it wasn't nearly as bad as last time. Dehyssed. Shit. This time, it was only about an inch long, and not through all of the layers. My surgeon stitched many layers in the hopes it would seal.

Not so much. She was distressed, my surgeon, when I called her from the ER later the next/same morning... So much for the non-surgical weekend. I just kept camping. Screw it. It was too beautiful to leave. Three gorgeous days, whales spouting everywhere, sixteen crab. Garlic butter. Yep. Tasty.

So, now showing signs of infection, I'll see the doc day after tomorrow.