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My thoughts released; a mind set free |
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These pages contain my thoughts, from meandering ideas and persuasions to deep cerebrations and serious mentations. Why, for what purpose? To release my mind and set creativity free. Somewhere inside the constraints of my mind dwells a writer, a poet, an artist who paints with words. In here, I release those constraints and set the artist free. Perhaps, lost somewhere in the depths of thought, is a story or a poem, waiting to be written. |
| We have been purchasing fresh meat from the local meat market for a few years. The price has been competitive, but the quality has been much better. The only exception has been their ground beef, which tends to be slightly cheaper than that found in grocery stores. But all good things must come to an end, and this seems to be true with the local meat market. It started last fall when they began construction to add on. Almost as soon as construction began, prices increased. But getting good, fresh meat was still worth spending a little more. Then, we purchased a chuck roll (a cut sourced from the shoulder region of the cow). Normally, we butcher these into a few roasts, some strips, some stew meat, and the rest we grind into hamburger. This time, however, it wasn't local beef, and it was very tough; too tough to eat. So, today I ended up grinding all of it into hamburger. We also purchase fresh beef fat that we render into tallow for cooking. I had stopped in last week to purchase ten pounds, but they didn't have any on hand. They said they would have more in a day or two, and wanted to know if I wanted to have them hold some for me. "Yes." The guy took down my name and phone number and said he'd call when they had some ready. He did, too. He called yesterday and said they had ten pounds set aside for me. I asked if I could wait until today to pick it up, and he said that would be fine. So, today I drove in to pick it up. But when I asked for the beef fat, I was told they didn't have any left. I pointed out that I had been called and told they were setting ten pounds aside for me. The guy looked at the board full of notes and asked for my name. He looked at the notes, found my order, and went and looked in the back. He returned empty-handed and informed me that someone had sold mine. I was a bit disgruntled and told him so. After all, it's very cold out today, I had driven in specifically to pick it up after being called, and had wasted my time. He didn't even apologize; he just asked if there was anything else he could do for me. My wife and I had discussed ordering a quarter beef from this store, so I asked him if I did order a quarter beef, would I get it all, or would someone sell it? He said, "It has happened." I did notice tubs of tallow in the cooler by the door as I was leaving; one-pound containers for $12.99. |
| There's a song by The Fabulous Thunderbirds, "Tuff Enuff"; I'm sure you've heard it. I thought of this song when I sat down to eat my dinner. My wife's at work, so it's just me and the two dogs, Max and Bellah, home to make and eat dinner. They would probably love helping me cook, but I don't think that would work out very well, so it was up to me to decide what we would eat. I had taken a beef roast out of the freezer yesterday to thaw in the fridge. It was cut from a beef chuck, yes, the whole chuck we had purchased at the local meat store. In butchering out the meat, I had cut a six-pound roast for the weekend, anticipating company. It didn't work out because they had gotten sick, so the big roast went into the freezer. Tonight, I decided to cut some off this roast and cook it up for dinner. I cooked some up for Max and Bellah, set it aside, and then proceeded to work on my dinner. I thought a stir-fry sounded good, so I chopped up some vegetables and sliced some beef. Soon enough, dinner was ready. I sat down and took a chunk of beef out of the medley and popped it into my mouth. I chewed, and chewed, and then chewed some more. It was like chewing on a hunk of rubber. I couldn't get it to break down and had to spit it out. Everything else was good, but the beef was so tough I couldn't eat it. Of course, the dogs didn't care. I don't think they chew half of what they eat. As I stated, as I sat there chewing and knawing on that beef, "Tuff Enuff" popped into my head. A proud member of "WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group"  "Reading soothes the soul, writing sets it free." T.J. |
| My wife called this afternoon from work, but I didn't answer because I didn't recognize the number. It turned out she had forgotten her cell phone at home and had called from her work phone. She left a message letting me know she needed me to bring her phone since she has to use it to clock in and out. I dropped what I was doing, got ready, and drove in. I decided to fill up a couple of water jugs (our water isn't the best for drinking or coffee, so we refill 3 and 5-gallon water bottles) and pick up a few things since I would be in town. I brought the dogs with me since it was another nice day. They love to ride with, but if it's too hot or too cold, they have to stay home. We went to my wife's work first and dropped off her phone. Then I drove over to the store. My first stop was the water fill station, and while I was filling up water bottles, a woman about my age came over and just stood there watching me. I said, "Hi." No answer, she just stood there, no cart, no nothing, just watching me. Next, I went to the meat counter to get some ground beef, and this woman followed me, staying about ten feet behind me. Next was the diary section, and again she followed. I started to walk over toward her, but she turned and hurried away. I returned to my job of gathering a few items, but noticed she was still following. Only now, she was being a bit more discreet. I almost broke out in laughter when I saw her peeking at me from the frozen food aisle. I went to the self-checkout since I only had a few items, and she stood and watched from the pharmacy section. When I would look, she would turn her attention to the shelf. I bagged my items, paid for them, and walked out to my truck. I noticed as I was loading my stuff in the back of the truck that she had also exited the store. I hurried and left while she was walking across the parking lot, and I thought I had lost my tail. But when I stopped at the stoplight, I realized she was in the vehicle right behind me. She stayed right behind me as I drove out of town and headed for home. By this time, I was feeling a bit paranoid and drove past my house and into the next town, where the sheriff's office is located. I turned into the parking lot of the sheriff's office and noticed she followed me. I pulled up just as a deputy walked out and waved him over. I explained to him how this woman was following me and asked if he could find out what she wanted. He said he would, then started walking toward her car. As soon as he did, she baked up and sped off at a pretty high rate of speed. But her luck wasn't good; she almost slammed into a sheriff's vehicle that was turning in. Being blocked now, she started to back up, but got over too far and backed into the snow bank just off the parking lot. She got stuck. They put her in the back of the sheriff's vehicle, and then he came and told me it would be a good time for me to drive home, because she wouldn't be following anyone for a while. He did have me explain everything in detail, got my name, address, and phone number, and then sent me on my way. I received a call about an hour later from the deputy. The woman was being held for stealing a car out of the store parking lot. To my understanding, someone had left their car running while they ran inside, and when she saw I was leaving, she jumped in and "borrowed" it. When asked why she was following me, she said she wasn't. The deputy also told me that she seemed to be confused. |
| That's not quite how my computer or cell phone puts it. They no longer recognize me. I use fingerprint recognition to unlock both my phone and my computer, but for the last two days, my prints have been unrecognizable, or so my devices tell me. I believe them. In fact, it would be more correct for them to inform me that I don't have fingerprints, not typical ones, anyway. When I was working in the sawmill, I lost my fingerprints from handling the rough-cut wood. In the winter, they would come back because I would have to wear gloves to handle the frozen wood, but then spring would arrive, and those cumbersome gloves had to go. Now, I'm not handling rough-cut lumber or anything that should be wearing my prints off, but nonetheless, they are smooth. This is something recent, the last two days. I didn't have any problems on the seventh after my infusion, but by the eighth, I was having difficulties, and by that night, I had to resort to using my PIN. In looking at my finger tips, they are smooth, barely grooved at all. They appear to have been filed or sanded down, either on purpose or by handling rough items. But neither of these are the case. The only thing that could be causing it is the immunotherapy I had on the seventh. There is a risk that my immune system could attack my own body, but the way it was explained was that it would be internal. For example, my kidneys or liver, lungs or heart, it could even be my intestines or stomach; anything. I suppose it could be external as well, but there should be other symptoms, like redness, pain, swelling, etc. This is not the case; other than being worn down, my fingers are doing fine. Well, except for the neuropathy. In fact, I'm feeling pretty good nowadays, except for some abdominal pain. That is another side effect of the immunotherapy, but it's not nearly as bad as it was from the chemo. Just the same, I sent a note off to my doctor explaining the loss of fingerprints and everything else I've explained here. Hopefully, I'll get an answer on Monday. It's too bad I'm inexperienced in crime; this could be advantageous in that line of work. |
| We've had some problems with the squirrels getting into the bird feeders ever since we moved here. This past summer, fall, and into this winter, they have gotten even worse. Instead of just getting into the bird feeders, they are busting them open. We've tried hanging them with the hope that it would keep the feeders safe, but they soon figured out how to slide down the cable and land on the feeders. Next, we purchased baffles (cone-shaped), thinking they would stop the pesky critters. I mean, that's what they're designed for, so it's got to work. It did for a while, but with a bit of time, the squirrels figured out how to slide down onto the cone, lean to one side enough that the cone dips down, then free-fall and grab the edge of the feeder. So, I decided it was time to try something different; I didn't have much choice, as they had recently busted open another feeder, and replacing them was becoming expensive. One option is to purchase an air rifle, shoot some of them, and cook them on the pellet smoker. Squirrels are good eating, and cooked over the wood fire would make them even tastier. But, before I resort to shooting them, I decided to try another approach. After some research, I decided on a shepherd's hook that's about seven feet tall and has a baffle about midway up the post to stop anything from climbing up. I also ordered another bird feeder since all of ours are now broken. Actually, I let my wife pick out a feeder, since it's her hobby to feed them. The problem is, how am I going to get the shepherd's hook into the frozen ground? The solution, build a fire and thaw the ground out where the post is going to go. So, today I decided, since it's another nice day, to do just that. I dug the truck rim (just a round rim with no center, about 18" in diameter and 10" high) out of the shed. Next, I used the ice scraper and shovel to clear the snow away. Once the ground was cleared and the rim in place, I split some wood for kindling and cut up some cardboard (the box the post and feeder came in) to use for a fire starter. I rolled the cardboard up and saturated it with rubbing alcohol, placed the kindling over it, and with little effort had a nice fire going. Since I needed to get a good bed of coals, I've been adding more wood throughout the afternoon. Since I had to tend the fire, I decided to put some more pork chops on the smoker, along with some ribs, since the last batch turned out so good. I set the smoker up in the portable shower that's now a smoking tent, made a pot of coffee, and took the dogs out to romp and play while I tended the fire and the smoker with some hot coffee. The ground is thawed, but the fire is still burning, so I'll wait for it to go down more, then put the feeder pole up before the ground refreezes. The smoker needs to go until at least six to instill a good, deep, smoke flavor. |
| I know I complain about the cold, snowy winters and the hot, humid summers, but it's one of the universal rights of all people to complain about the weather. But all complaining aside, I truly love northern Minnesota. I've lived in other places and, by my own choice, I moved back to Minnesota. But where did it all start? I was born in South Dakota, so by birth I'm a Sodak. Maybe you haven't heard that term; it comes from the old abbreviation for South Dakota, S Dak. I remember having a conversation with a person from Grand Forks, North Dakota, and he jokingly called me a Sodak. I laughed and replied, "Better to be a Sodak than a Nodak." I lived there through kindergarten then moved to Minnesota with my parents after my dad took a job working as a lineman for Minnesota Power. We first lived in a rented cabin in northern Minnesota on Swan Lake. Coming from Dakota, I was captivated by all the lakes and trees. A year later, my parents purchased a house in Nashwauk; a mining town on the Mesabi Iron Range. After high school, I moved to the Twin Cities and worked for a while in a machine shop. The cities were exciting, but too crowded for an introvert. I longed to be back north in the woods. So, I moved back close to the home I grew up in and took a job in a garage in Hibbing. I worked there until my delayed entry into the United States Air Force. I completed basic training in Lackland AFB, Texas, a big change for a northern boy. After basic training, I moved to Aurora AFB, Colorado, to complete my training as an Aircraft Weapons System Specialist. From there, I was transferred to Ellsworth AFB, South Dakota, where I put my training to use on B-52s older than I was. I also did a lot of traveling while in the service, enjoying the opportunities (most of the time) to see new places. After I left the service, I returned to northern Minnesota to be close to my family. I ended up divorced and raising three teenagers on my own, but stayed put so they could finish school in the same district they had always attended. It's also where I met my wife, who also had a couple of daughters attending the same school. After our children graduated, we traveled back to South Dakota to visit my younger brother and decided to stay. But, over the years and a few different jobs, we both missed Minnesota. In time, we decided it was time to return to Minnesota and ended up in St. Cloud. Actually, in Wait Park, which is right next to St. Cloud, a town that soon boasted one of the highest crime rates in the state. Then COVID-19 arrived, and things became even worse. We decided to get the hell out of Dodge. We still didn't know where we would move and kind of just left it to fate. We watched for places to rent in smaller towns and rural areas, but with the state in full lockdown, it was difficult to do much of anything. That is, until we found the listing for the house we live in now. My wife contacted the owner and asked if we could look at it right away, or if we had to wait until after the lockdown was lifted. He answered, "Screw the lockdown, I'm not worried if you're not." We drove for a couple of hours and met him and his wife at the house. After a nice tour and having a few questions answered, we decided we wanted to rent the place. I was eager to get moved since there had been some rioting close to where we lived in Wait Park, so I told him we'd take it. Of course, he wanted to check references first and told us he'd get in touch soon. He did get in touch soon, almost as soon as we had returned home. We started packing and moving the next day, happy to be far away from the riots and the crime. I was back in northern Minnesota, close to the lakes and trees I'd loved all my life. I live in the country, but only six miles from a fair-sized town and about forty miles from a few even bigger towns. We have six lakes within a ten-minute drive, two within walking distance, and two state parks within a forty-minute drive. This song, to me, explain why I love northern Minnesota: |
| Dinner is done. It's done cooking, and I've done et it. I had never heard the term "et" until an elderly person my wife knew decided to try fishing where we had done a fair job of fishing a day earlier. He told her he caught a fish, cleaned it, and then et it. Of course, another elderly Sodak had used the phrase "over yander", which I had never heard before either. As it turns out, et is actually past tense for eat, while "over yander" is just a mispronunciation of "over yonder". Will I still say "over yander"? Mayhaps. But I'm digressing here, which makes me a digressor. I had tossed (not literally) a ham hock, some little potatoes, and some cabbage into the slow cooker for our dinner. My wife had the day off, but had to go in for training today, so it was a good day to slow-cook dinner. It was done when she got home, and it turned out nice. And, since it was also nice outside, sunny and near 50°F, I decided to fire up the pellet smoker and smoke some porkchops. The pork is from a pig we ordered and had processed, so the hocks are smoked, not fatty, and more like ham. The porkchops are also very lean with just a little fat on them. I was surprised at how lean the pork is. I have a portable smoker we got a couple of years ago for Christmas, from my wife and me to my wife and me. We tried it out after we got it, but it didn't work well in the cold winter air. It just doesn't maintain a consistent temperature when it's cold; it cools down too far, then heats up too high. So, I decided to try putting it inside a shelter so we can use it in the winter. I decided to order a portable camping shower to use for a shelter. It's screened on top and has two zippered openings towards the top, and it worked great. It's vented enough that the smoke dispersed well, but it also held the heat in enough that the smoker held a more consistent temperature. The porkchops were smoked at about 250°F for three hours, then I turned them down to 180°F and let them slow-smoke for a couple more hours. They look wonderful, and tomorrow for lunch we'll try them out. It's nice to use the smoker again. With the chemo messing my taste up, and just being sicker than hell all spring, summer, and fall, there wasn't any reason to fire it up. But now that I have my taste back, I'm starting to feel much better, and have a shelter to put it in, I'm looking forward to using it again. |
| It's another hazy, kind of foggy, and sometimes snowy day here; it can't seem to make up its mind. The only thing certain is no sunshine breaking through the gloominess. Even so, my spirits are brighter than yesterday, and I want to put more focus on writing and reading. One thing I want to at least get started on is cleaning my office. It's more of a junk room right now, and even with two desks in there, I'd be hard-pressed to find room to set my coffee down. I think getting my office cleaned up may help me break through some of the writer's block. Currently, I'm sitting back in my recliner with my laptop and subject to multiple interruptions throughout the day. I believe having a space designated just for writing will help, but I know it will take a bit more to overcome the blockage. Another step is to get back into reading. As a kid, I read anything when I wasn't actively engaged in some activity; I loved reading almost as much as I loved exploring the abandoned mining pits that were right outside of town. However, some years ago, life filled my days with so many interruptions and distractions that I became flustered with both writing and reading. In time, the discouragement became rooted and grew into the blockage I suffer today. It's time to change that, even if it means locking myself in my office and putting earplugs in. If I cannot find anything to write about, I'll do a bit of free writing to try and generate ideas to write about. I'm also going to practice a bit of positive meditation to try and drive the dark cloud that's haunted my days and nights since last spring away. I also thought about ordering a solar panel to put a little sunshine in my office, but in reading up on them, I discovered they don't work that way. One would think a solar panel would produce sunlight and heat. You know, a portable source of sunshine. However, it seems the term is misleading; the panel isn't solar at all. It seems they don't produce solar energy, but in fact require sunlight to work. |
| Some days are more challenging than others, as you all are very aware of. For me, this has intensified with my diagnosis of cancer, treatment, and recovery rates. Knowing there's only a 35% probability that I can beat this creates a dark shadow that is never too far away. But, I try and focus on being one of those 35 out of a hundred, I do my best to chase the dark clouds away through positive thinking and all the blessings in life. But still, some days are more challenging. For example, I haven't seen the sunshine in a week now, and that in itself is depressing. Also, the days are short, with less than nine hours of sunshine a day this time of year. I do my best to counter the darkness, but it's depressing in itself. I was also friends with all four neighbors who live around me. Cliff lived on the north side but moved over a year ago. His health was failing, and it was too much for him and his wife to keep their place up. He moved into an apartment closer to his children, who could help out. Another friend who lived just south of me also moved a couple of hours away because of problems he had with our new landlord; he was the source of the problem, and he could be difficult at times, but he was still a friend. The other neighbor to the south of me (it's two apartments) died earlier this month. I watched them carry him out in a body bag. To the west was another friend who moved after Christmas. He, like me, was introverted and kept to himself most of the time, but we talked at least once a week. He moved down to the Twin Cities to live with his son. Being an introvert and somewhat new to this area, we moved here in 2020 during the pandemic, I don't have many friends. I was a bit surprised by how quickly Steve and I became friends, and in helping Brian out, we also developed a friendship. Cliff was friendly, and we talked often, while Randy kind of did his own thing most of the time. But when I'd sit out with the dogs, he'd come over and visit. He worked part-time at Amor Pork and would bring over a pack of bacon or smoked pork chops. He got them for free when they were close to expiring. He's the one who got us a great deal on a whole pork. Other than these four people, my wife, and our dogs, I don't really have any other friends, and in just a few months, I lost four of them. Sure, we keep in touch over the phone, but it's not the same as visiting and having coffee, or going out fishing, or working on projects together. Today I had a video conference with some people from palliative care who are supposed to be making things easier for me as I recover from chemo and try to get on with my life. Unfortunately, the person I was talking to didn't seem to listen to what I was asking or talking to her about. Instead, she continued to focus on the probability of my cancer returning and how I want to spend my last days, who to care for me, if I want to die at home or in a care facility, etc. After an hour of listening to her and the gloom and doom of dying from cancer, I'm having a difficult time clearing that dark cloud away, and it's not helping that my wife's at work and I don't have anyone to talk to until she gets home. For now, I'll talk to Max. He's always good about talking back to me, even if I don't understand Husky. Bellah is right beside me and trying to get me to throw a toy for her every chance she gets; she doesn't understand that throwing her toy makes her happy, not me, but that's an Australian Shepard's reasoning. For now, I'm thinking about dinner and hopefully can get the thoughts running through my head quieted down. |
| We had another nice day (nice by January standards in northern Minnesota, anyway). It was almost thawing out, but gloomy; a light fog held fast through the day. That's one of my biggest gripes about living this far north: the days are too damn short, although we are up to seven hours and forty-three minutes of daylight now, and there are too many overcast days. And, when the sun does shine, it's usually very cold. I can hardly wait for the day when nuclear fusion is available to the common person. A small fusion device to provide power to the home, and my very own little sun to sit under during the winter. Anyway, I was saying it was a nice day today, so we decided to go into town and do a bit of grocery shopping. The idea was to leave the dogs at home, but as soon as they heard us discussing this plan, they understood and made known to us that they wanted to go with us. Since it was so nice out, we gave in and brought them along. This also provided us with an opportunity to bring them over to Sunnybrook Park and let them run and play for a while. I had just worn a light jacket with a sweatshirt under it, a light pair of gloves, and my stocking hat. I also wore a pair of work boots instead of my snowpacks. By the time we finished shopping and got to the park, the wind had picked up, and a light freezing drizzle was falling. I froze what little butt I have left off. Seriously, I'm lucky I had bib overalls on, or I would have lost my pants since I no longer had any ass (or hips) to hold regular pants up. I know better, living here most of my life; never trust the weather. This is not the first time I've been caught outdoors in the winter without proper clothing, but I was younger and ignorant back then and learned from my mistake. Yes, even though I wasn't dressed for the change in today's weather, I do keep a winter survival kit in my vehicle, complete with extra clothing, blankets, hand warmers, emergency food, and water. The forty-five-minute drive home ended up taking an hour and twenty minutes because of the icy roads, but that's winter in Minnesota. |
| I was just over at "What the Fork?" and posted a complaint about blockage and my desire to be free of it. I'm referring to a mental block when it comes to writing. For me, writing is a means of escape from life's difficulties, a way to work out problems, and a means of sharing with others. It's also how I reset and recharge. Sure, I write in my blog, but it's factual, not fiction. I need to lose myself in my own imagination, but it seems I've closed that door, locked it, and now I can't find the forking key! I think part of the problem stems from not reading. I've tried, but it seems the blockage also prevents me from getting lost in a good book. Hell, I can't even seem to find a good book to read. I've subscribed to Kindle Unlimited so I can find and read a lot of stories, hoping that by reading some good fiction, it will grease my cognitive gears and maybe some good fiction will start pouring out again. I enjoyed the phrase in Batman (1989) by the Joker, "This town needs an enema!" In my case, I would need to change it: "My brain needs an enema." |
| I changed my photo to an old one. It's my Husky, Max, and my wife's Australian Shepard, Bellah, when they were still puppies. They are snuggled up by the patio door, where they still enjoy lying and looking out, always on the lookout for squirrels. The photo above was taken years ago, 2008, I think. We lived in a small town in eastern South Dakota. Hazel was about four blocks from east to west and three blocks from north to south. We lived on the east side of town, the very first (or last) house. One morning, I woke to a heavy fog and took the picture that graces my blog. The photo of the dogs reminds me how fast time passes and to appreciate each day. The photo of the sunrise behind the railroad tracks in the fog reminds me to focus on the here and now: "We never know what lies ahead." I hope the new year is good for everyone. |
| I'm a little behind but doing pretty well after a recent illness. I stayed home for Christmas instead of attending a family gathering at my sister-in-law's. Why? Because I didn't want to catch any bugs from anyone; with a weakened immune system, I'm more susceptible to catching illnesses. Who would have thought that I would catch one of those nasty bugs from the food that was sent home for me to enjoy? My wife, knowing I have a cat allergy, showered and changed clothes as soon as she got home. She was also concerned because a couple of people who attended the get-together were still recovering from illnesses. (I don't understand why anyone who is ill would attend and risk spreading their illness, but some people don't seem to care.) But, with my wife's precautions, I did not react to the cat dander she likely brought home, and neither of us contracted any of the illnesses she was exposed to. What we didn't know was that some of the food sent home would expose me to food poisoning! Nobody else got sick, but the leftovers sent home for me did sit out after dinner instead of being refrigerated right away. No matter what the cause was, I enjoyed the food, but by that evening, I was feeling sick. Mostly, I was suffering from abdominal cramps and pain, something I endure quite often as an after-effect of chemo. Therefore, I didn't give it much thought. But by the following day, I couldn't eat anything. The thought of eating made me feel nauseated, and even trying to drink water resulted in it coming back up. I did use the anti-nausea medication I have, but it didn't do any good. I was also losing a lot of fluid through diarrhea. My wife had to work the day after Christmas, so she didn't get home until after eleven that evening. She was concerned about my well-being and called the hospital. If my condition didn't improve by the next morning, she was to bring me to the emergency department. By the next morning, I had slept very little and was sicker than hell; she helped me to the car and took me to the hospital. The first diagnosis was severe dehydration, so they plugged me into a bag of saline water while they ran more tests. While I was being rehydrated, I started suffering from dry heaves; I was throwing up, but there wasn't anything to come up, I was also feverish, weak, and suffering a lot of abdominal pain. They injected a few medications through the IV. It stopped the dry heaving, and I think lowered my fever, but I don't remember much after the initial diagnosis; I passed out. I woke later that afternoon in a hospital room. I was wired to an EKG monitor as a result of going into Afib and having some breathing problems. I had my port accessed, and a couple of bags hung from the IV tree into the pumps that dispensed their contents into my port. The doctor came in after an hour, but my wife had already told me that I had some type of food poisoning and was severely dehydrated on top of that. The doctor further explained that my weakened condition from chemo and my lowered immune response had made things much worse. He insisted on my staying in the hospital until my blood tests came back normal and I had more fluids to counter my being so dehydrated. In the end, I spent three days in the hospital as they treated me for the toxins in my blood, rehydrated me, and fed me nutrients and lipids through an IV. I was only able to have clear liquids for the first twenty-four hours I was in the hospital, then I was moved up to soft foods until I was discharged on December 30th. Even though I was told, "No alcohol!" I did have a couple of brandies with water for New Year's Eve. I've also been enjoying solid food. I firmly believe it was one last attempt of 2025 to do me in before it died and the New Year arrived. |
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Merry Christmas Yes, I say Merry Christmas, and I hope it doesn't offend anyone. It shouldn't, even if you do not celebrate the day, it's still named Christmas. My calendar has many non-Christian holidays listed throughout the year, and none of them are offensive to me; I don't celebrate them. But if anyone wishes me a happy or joyful holiday, no matter what the day is, I thank them for their kind thoughts.To All! So, for those who celebrate Christmas, I wish you a very wonderful Christmas. For those who do not celebrate Christmas, I still wish you a very wonderful day. And, if you do feel offended, then please accept my apology, and happy holidays to you and your families. |
| My wife and I had a morning filled with a lot of information. Questions were answered, and many options to improve my quality of life were discussed. Within a week or so, I should be getting some different medications that sound promising. It amazes me how much more the VA is doing compared to my oncologist and the cancer center I've been treated at. Although very helpful, the meeting was lengthy, involving a social service provider, the doctor's nurse, and finally the doctor herself. It took us into early afternoon, and with so much information, I'm looking forward to receiving a lot of it in the mail in the upcoming week. Once we finished the online meetings, we had some leftovers for lunch and then headed once again to Glendalough State Park to do a short hike and to let the dogs run and frolic. It was another nice day, above freezing and just a mild breeze. Even so, the cold still gets to me, but hopefully that sensitivity to cold will soon be a thing of the past. Tonight we will have our Christmas dinner, nothing fancy, but we did splurge on a duck as the main course, something that had vanished from the store shelves with the onslaught of Covid and just recently returned to the meat cooler. Tonight we will open one gift from each other, the rest tomorrow morning after we get up and get some coffee going. After, I'll spend the day at home, but my wife will go to her relatives for a family dinner. I was thinking about going as well, but there are going to be a lot of people there, many of them with kids, and I don't want to risk contracting anything from them with my weakened immune system. Also, the relative hosting the dinner has quite a few cats. I love cats, but I'm allergic to them, and again, with a weakened immune system, it's best to stay away. And yet another reason to stay home, they only have one bathroom, and as of yet, I have not fully recovered from the digestive issues of chemo and need to have access to a bathroom at all times, as I never know when or how bad nature will call. I don't feel bad about missing. I'm going to enjoy some quiet time with our dogs and with anyone else who logs in here. Being an introvert, busy family gatherings tend to be trying, and I often find or manufacture good reasons to exit, stage left. A final thought I want to share is this: We really do need to stop killing moles for their mole-asses! |
| Another late night. One of our neighbors came over with a package of Christmas cookies and a card for us this morning. The cookies she brought were peanut butter and molasses, two my wife didn't bake this year. After we did our turn at delivering cookies to the neighbors, providing her with some she hadn't baked. From there it was a trip into Wadena to do a bit of last-minute Christmas shopping. We, my wife and I, did most of our shopping, but still needed to pick up a few things for relatives and for stocking stuffers. Since we both had to do a bit of shopping, we took turns. First, she shopped, I waited in the vehicle with the dogs, then I shopped while she puppy-sat. After shopping and picking up some stuff for tacos, our dinner for the night, we headed into my wife's work. One of the residents she cared for passed away on Monday. He liked to paint, but because of his condition, he needed a bit of help when he painted. My wife would go in on her days off and assist him. He used oil paints, something different for my wife, so he taught her how to paint with oil as she assisted him. Anyway, the family left all his painting supplies for my wife, knowing she would appreciate them, and to show their appreciation for the friendship she shared with him. By the time we got home and fixed dinner, ate, and cleaned up it was nine o'clock. So, now it's time to relax and watch the boob-tube, but I need to maintain my streak in here first. Not much time for anything more tonight, but hopefully tomorrow I can get caught back up. |
| Yesterday we took Max, our Husky, and Bellah, our Australian Shepard, over to Glendalough State Park to do a bit of hiking and to let them run and burn off some energy. We have camped at Glendalough in the past, but it's a cart-in campground. You park your vehicle, unload, and use a provided cart to haul everything to your campsite. No campers (except for the camp host), no electricity, just tents and roughing it. There are two lakes within the park that are connected by a small river that we explored partly by kayak when we camped there. Now days, tent camping is out; it became too much work to haul everything, set up the tent, and sleeping on the ground is difficult and uncomfortable. But, we do want to explore the park fully since we weren't able to when we camped. This means we will need to kayak the two lakes and the river connecting them as well as hike some trails that are only accessable by water. They actually have a couple of yurts and a campsite on the backside of Annie Battle Lake that are only accesable by water. But, to kayak that far and back to the landing means I need to work my ass off to get in shape. I haven't kayaked in over a year, I had put on too much weight for my kayak and had finally lost enough to kayak again, but this past spring, summer, and fall were not good for kayaking or much of anything else. Now, my weight is down even more; I'm close to my ideal wight. But, I'm also very much out of shape. I have the winter months to work on regaining my strength and stamina, and come spring I'll be doing a lot of kayaking and hiking, starting easy and building back up to where I was a couple years ago. |
| Yes, I'm talking about shapes, but in reference to one's own body. While I have always been in good shape, the shape of my body hasn't always been the healthiest. Even though I was breaching the three-hundred-pound mark for a spell, I could still hike for miles up and down hills, I could still kayak, although I couldn't use my sit-on-top because I was fifty pounds over capacity, and it would roll over with the slightest movement. I could do most everything I did before my weight shot up that high. I do admit that putting on my shoes and socks was more difficult, but I managed. The weight shot up because I was used to working in a sawmill. Not only was it very active work, but some of the green wood I'd handle was in excess of a hundred pounds; logs and timbers I tossed around daily for eight hours a shot. This burned calories like they were kindling. But when I quit working this kind of work do to a severe hernia, I quit burning three to four thousand calories a day, but my appetite didn't diminish. Then there was the surgery and the large patch they stuck in me to fix the hernia. For a month, I was inactive, and for the next month, only slightly active. After I healed, I took a job working security. I was on my feet a lot, but it was nothing like sawmill work and only a bit more active than when I was doing office work. So, the weight piled on relatively fast, but as many know, it never goes off as quickly as it goes on. Fat cells are like obnoxious relatives who come to visit even though you prefer they don't. All it takes is a few minutes for them to drag all their luggage in and get settled, but it takes a small miracle to get them back out of the house; fat is the same. Anyway, I did manage to lose weight and get back down to the mid-two-hundred-pound range, but it stayed there, and I've tried for years to get back under two hundred. Last spring, when I went in for the endoscopy that revealed my cancer, they weighed me at two hundred and sixty-seven pounds. This morning, our digital scale, which is spot on with the hospital scale, indicated I was now at one hundred and ninety-five pounds. It's a good thing I had the extra weight to see me through the chemo and surgeries, or there wouldn't be anything left except a stick man! So, the weight I do not miss, but unfortunately, it wasn't all fat that I disposed of; I also lost some muscle through it all. I now have a difficult time carrying in and loading the water softener with salt or scooping and throwing snow. I knew I lost some muscle, but I didn't realize how much until today. We took the dogs to a state park south of us and hiked just under seven-tenths of a mile. It was a pretty level trail, partly covered in packed snow and a bit of ice, but easy walking. The first half was easy, anyway. The second half was a cross-country ski trail, and the last tenth of a mile back to the parking area wasn't on the trail. Yes, my wife and I went off-road through the foot-deep snow. I was huffing and puffing, but still determined to go over the snow bank (about five or six feet high) at the end of the parking lot. My wife, being the smarter of us, went around. Even my Husky was smart enough to go around, but I was going over. I wanted to limb it as I did as a kid; king of the hill! Last winter, I would have scrambled my much fatter self up that little snow bank with little effort, but today, I had to use my hands to get up it; my legs were not strong enough and too fatigued from the hike! I have a hell of a lot of work to build up my muscles, and it's the wrong time of year to do it; it's much too cold for me most days to go out and really work my legs. I can do some weight lifting at home, I have a weight bench and weights. I've just been feeling too sick to do much. Now that I'm feeling better most days, I could spend some time pumping iron. I'm also going to be joining a gym/fitness center after Christmas so I can use their equipment to work my core and legs; it's time to get back into proper shape. |
| Sometimes, days go by, and a person mistakenly thinks it's a different day than it actually is. This is especially true when a person is recovering from a sickness or chemo (medically induced sickness). Usually I check the calendar early in the day so I know about upcoming appointments and such, but sometimes there's a lull in the normally busy schedule. That's the case now. My wife is off work, but it's a changing schedule, so I never know for sure what days she works or what days she has off. I was thinking she had weekdays off on her current rotation, and never even checked the calendar. I decided that while she did some more of her Christmas baking, I would run into town and pick up some ground beef, something for supper, and some chicken grit. I warmed up the vehicle (it's only 7°F), loaded up the dogs and drove the six miles into town, heading to the locker plant to pick up some freshly ground beef and fresh meat (we were undecided what to have for dinner), then I was going to go next door to the feed store for the chicken grit. No, we do not have chickens, but we have ice, lots of ice. I was going to get sand to sprinkle in the driveway for traction, but I was informed yesterday, while visiting some of my in-laws, that chicken grit works better and it's cheaper. (Winter in Minnesota drives the price of salt and sand higher.) But, the feed store and locker plant, both part of the Cenex farmer's coop, are not open on the weekends. I know this, but I thought it was a weekday and didn't realize my mistake until I pulled into the parking lot and saw that they were closed. I was confused for a minute, maybe even less, then checked my phone; Saturday, no wonder they're closed. I pulled out and drove to the local grocery store, and looked around for something that looked good for dinner. I decided on chicken wings, seasoned and baked with a vegetable stir-fry for a side. The vegetables are all prepped and waiting for the chicken, which is smelling delightful as it bakes. |
| I slept in for a change and likely needed the rest. After getting up and having my coffee, we loaded up the dogs and drove into town to fill the five and three-gallon water jugs we use for our drinking water since ours is so heavy with iron. Then we returned home and dropped off the water and the dogs before we took off to deliver some Christmas cards to relatives in the area. Normally, we mail them, but this year I thought delivering them would be nice. Also, with my chemo infusions all spring, surgery in July, and then more chemo through the fall, I haven't been up to visiting them, and since I'm still not recovered fully, I likely won't make the Christmas get-together since it's at a home with a lot of cats and I'm allergic. After dropping off cards and visiting it got kind of late, so for the first time in months, we went out to eat. I had a junk basket, an assortment of deep-fried goodies, and my wife had a small pizza. The food was good, but way more than I could eat. I did my best, but there was still plenty to bring home. After our meal, we stopped to pick up some groceries, and that's when the stomach pain hit. I knew it would, but it was even more intense, and I was barely able to finish shopping. Now, I'm wiped out; it was too much for the day, but it was an enjoyable overdoing it. My stomach has settled down, and I'm about ready to call it a day and head off to bed. Note to self: Do not overdo things, just take it easy and give it time. |
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