Sleep drought

You know you've been in a sleep drought when you wake up in the morning, finally gather the courage to roll over to look at the clock, and are overwhelmed with relief to find that it is 4:13 in the morning. For awhile this week, I was waking up almost exactly one hour earlier each consecutive day. Prior to the sleep-in of this morning, I was up (back?) to 12:34 am. I mean, really, pretty soon I wouldn't need to go to sleep at all.

Judging by the monsoon sound of the rains outside, drought is not something to worry about in the garden for awhile. We went from near-record snow fall accumulations over the past couple of weeks and northern Minnesota-like temperatures, which had us farm-bound for 11 solid days to near-immediate melt and now heavy rains. From frozen roads to swollen rivers almost overnight. Our little farm is situated nicely for both of these weather pecadillos. If snow is likely, we are high enough to get it and all the lovely bright whiteness it brings and that same elevation allows us to pass on the flooding worry to our further down neighbors. We have a sweet, year-round creek which flows through our property down below the garden, but that is surrounded by naturalized forest and bog. It would take flooding of Noah proportions to reach the house. Sometimes I feel a little guilty, but then I remember my (lack) of tomato harvest. Maybe that's our trade-off. For the third year in a row, I have sworn off tomato planting until I get a greenhouse. At least any tomatoes that I could actually do anything with. Luckily for us, those teeny-tiny tomatoes that are so sweet and delicious to pop off the vine and right into your mouth do pretty well. And then there is that new garden spot right in front of the house. I ripped out a house-length portion of deck this past summer so I could create more of a garden feel to the front of our house. It was all lumber and gravel and non-native, misplaced rhododendrons that burned in the intense heat of summer. Ah-ha! Intense heat of summer........ and now with the house as a backdrop, I could really plant some heat-loving annuals there. Now if I can just figure out a way to keep our afraid-of-the-dark dog from doing her business there.

Ambivalent blogger?

Ok, I have to admit that I'm not too sure about this blogging business. During my treatment for breast cancer (2006-2007), I wrote frequently on a site called Caring Bridge. Caring Bridge is a free site that was set up specifically for individuals with a significant medical event in order to allow for an easy way to keep friends and family in the loop. It was fabulous. For me, I mean. I could go there and hold no punches at any time of the day or night. I could say things there that I just couldn't say on the phone or in person. The problem with laying it all out to a real live person, you see, is that you have to deal with the reaction factor. If you've had a serious illness or been through on with someone you know what I mean. Your mother just does NOT want to hear about how you don't know if you can make it through one more treatment. And yet, the fact remains, that there are just going to be days like that. For me, not getting that out was toxic soup territory.

Caring Bridge offered a place to do that. People could log in, read my journal entries and even write messages in the guestbook. I could put up pictures, change the scenery, and post useful web links. Big deal, right? I could do most of that just through an email group post. The beauty of the whole thing? As an author, it was IMPOSSIBLE to respond to people's comments in the guestbook. Don't get me wrong. One of the most uplifting and supporting aspects of my treatment was having people write in to me there and it made my treatment a whole lot bearable and a lot less lonely. But the burden was lifted. I could read and enjoy, revel and cry without ever feeling like I needed to respond.

And here's where I am this morning. As I have moved further away (KNOCK on wood) from treatment, I found myself missing a place to write. Many suggested blogging, but I have to admit, I'm not much of a computer person. It's a little foreign-language'ish to me. I know it's not hip, but I don't know how to download pictures from the camera, I don't get the myface/space (whatever!), we recently got rid of our cell phone, we don't have a tv, and every now and again I even (gasp!) go on a rage about getting rid of the email. It's not that I am not computer literate (just in case you're considering me for one of those part-time jobs I have been applying for) - I can do a lot of computer stuff. Heck, the past couple of days I've even been working on a new web page for the farmers market. I recognize that there are beneficial aspects. I have been wanting for months now to post on etsy.com to try and sell some of my fiberwork. The farmers market web page I inherited truly is (soon to be was) embarassing. I just don't naturally spend my time with technology. And I don't really get it so I have to work at it a little harder.

So, Lissa loans me this book. Julie & Julia: 365 days, 524 recipes, 1 tiny apartment kitchen by Julie Powell (is there no way to underline here - see THIS is exactly the sort of thing I am talking about!). Julie Powell is floundering (kinda like me but for different reasons) so she hatches this plan to give herself a year to cook through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. And she blogs her way through the year. Along the way she picks up followers and develops relationships with them. She grabs some press attention from various sources and voila - the book. Well, she inspired me. Her writing was honest and funny and, well......., I've always kinda wanted to write a book. And. let's face it. I'm no spring chicken. I finished the book, found the emails (waaaay back there in the 35 pages of emails in my inbox) from friends advising me of this site and here I am. Ambivalence fully attached and functional. I mean, what would be worse? Getting followers or NOT getting them? I've never really pursued the writing thing (although I do tend to get compliments on my writing ) because SOOOOO much is already being said. What can I, with all my inner wriggly worms, possibly add.? And, what if I write something so meaningless and boring (like the book I tried to get myself back to sleep with at 1 am this morning and only ended up getting mad because it was so bad?) that all I accomplish is end up adding to the drivel.

And then there is just the reality of life with small children and that darn lung nodule. I got up in the dark to do a little writing. Everyone was supposed to stay asleep, for heavens sake. All but two sentences of this have been written with one child wanting me to finish reading the last few chapters in the Redwall book we have been sharing (fairly patiently, I might add, thanks to our supply of TinTin books) while the other (not so quietly and not so patiently) sat on my lap trying to crawl into my bathrobe. What memories will they have of me? Do I want to encourage the shooing-them-off-my-lap ones? And therein lies the rub of all of life. Balance.

Check out Caring Bridge at www.caringbridge.org.

words, just words

Words are such interesting and powerful little suckers. Take, just for example, the words "lung" and "nodule". Independently, they may not do all that much for you. Put them in the same sentence, in a call from your oncologist's office, with a history of breast cancer and they can pack a pretty good punch.

So the news is lung. nodule. right. side. Could. be. scar.tissue.

I sicced the doctor's office after a CT I had at another hospital back when I was first diagnosed. Since I didn't have this oncologist at that time, they didn't even know about it. How could they?! Once that gets in, the doc will have a compare and we'll just see. The prescription (without the comparison photos) is to redo the CT in 3 months. Until then, I try to keep in mind that they are just words.

The light returneth!! And, yet, the darkness is in each day.

It is Christmas for many of you this day and we are sending you our love to include in your celebrations.

At our house, we are in the midst of Hannukah. We light our menorah each night, eat potato latkes, play games, read stories and have family time together. This year that was made even more possible by this crazy, delicious, and persistent snow! Up at our place we have about 12 inches of the stuff. We have built snowmen, started a snow fort, sledded and skiied right from our doors. What a treat. On the flip side, we have been locked in, cut off, and spent moments PRAYING for some new face to see. Though we are saddened at the weather-related loss of our annual Hannukah party this year, we hope you will 'pencil us in' for next year!

We were blessed with a ski-over visit from new friends and neighbors(!!), Rose and Kurt and two days ago we threw all caution to the wind and drove out toward Eagle Creek to visit with friends who were really snowed in down their little idyllic valley. What a road for sledding though!! They used their tractor to plow a swath down the middle (think luge run). What a hoot! I haven't laughed like that in a long time - which is kind of a sobering thought.... Come on, when is the last time YOU laughed so hard you thought you might pee in your snowsuit? Is it possible that we are all taking things just a little too seriously? Maybe it's just me....

On the health front. I have been feeling a bit of a mess of late. Some persistent stomach, nausea, and 'swimmy' head symptoms and that darn knee is acting up again BIG time. Andrew and I spent yesterday at St. Vincent's Hospital where I underwent full body & brain scanning. Of course none of the technicians are supposed to tell you anything, but the bone scan guy says, 'OW! WHAT did you do to that knee?' He showed me the scan after and it is rather ugly. All clear and unblemished on the left side, gnarly mass of black on the right. Of course this could be residual from the multiple injuries and surgeries this poor knee has endured. And, of course it could be a tumor. On the good side, the tech didn't seem to think so. He did take extra scans of the knee and I asked him to have them sent over to the orthopedic surgeon at the same time as the oncologist. My ortho appt. is rescheduled for next week. I am hoping with these scans to have an expedient surgery date. I am guessing that a knee replacement is in my future. If the rest of the scans show no evidence of disease (NED), I want to get moving on that. Generally they want to wait until people are older, but I am going to angle for the, 'I might be dead then' and I want to ride, swim, hike, farm NOW.

Oh and the brain MRI tech. Did I tell you what he said as I was leaving? 'I'm sure you'll hear from your oncologist about this VERY soon.' I collapsed into tears when I got back to Andrew in the waiting room. On the other hand, my oncologist wasn't waiting for me at the door of the hospital as we left so that's gotta mean it's ok, right? At least for today.

And speaking of rides! Fabrication on my custom bike has started and the frame is almost ready to be sent off to the painters. Check out this amazing WOMAN bike builder (I've put a link to her web site in the links section at the top of the toolbar) She's incredible and funny and and talented and I like her politics. And she has nifty bike and art gifts on her site as well. Check out the photos for a photo of the emerging bike.

Phew - sorry for being so long-winded here! I'm going to check out that blogspot a couple of you recommended.......honest. Just as soon as I write the farm business plan, finish those 3 custom rugs I have on order, build a website for the farmers market food coop and school garden project, and whip up some more latkes for tonight.....