Sudden Onset Left Thumb Awareness

Yesterday I spent part of the morning mending fences. My gate post had rotted. I dug it out and got the gate supports out of the wood (no easy task). I drilled holes in the new gate post for the supports. By the way, if anyone needs a super long 5/8 inch drill bit, let me know because it would be nice to get more than one use out of it. The process was going smoothly. I love it when a chore goes just right. I got the post back in and buried to the right level. The gate was swinging nicely right where I wanted it. The final step was nailing the fence staples to attach the chicken wire to the gate post. I started at the bottom of the post. I was just finishing up the last staple when BLAMMO! I struck my thumbnail with the hammer really hard. I stumbled around the apple tree with my hands between my knees saying, "Crap! Crap! Crap!" I have a personal goal not to swear. Each oath costs me a dollar to donate to charity. In this instance, crap just wasn't cutting it. I let out the f-bomb. Totally worth the dollar. Offspring #2 told me that the television show "Myth Busters" explored the pain relief benefits of swearing and there is truth to it. I believe it. In this case, I made a conscious decision to swear instead of just letting it slide out. In any case, my thumb does not look the same. I was advised that the pressure of a bandage on the thumb can relieve some of the pain so I tried it. The band aid helps some. Plus I don't have to look at the injury. At first the band aid covered all the discoloration but now purple and blue is showing. After 24 hours, the thumb has stopped throbbing and is now a steady pain. I have a sudden awareness of my left thumb. Here are things I cannot do easily: open the package on a band aid, pull up my pants zipper, open a button, open or close a window, take anything out of my left pants pocket, hammer nails or staples, use a screwdriver, pull weeds, pull a can of pop out of a case, put library materials into the drive-up return conveyor belt, put groceries in the car, tie my shoes, floss my teeth and put on underwear. Here are things I can do relatively easy without bothering my left thumb: use a computer, drive a car, swim laps, take care of chickens, and brush my teeth.

The Audacity of Squirrels

I took today off work to catch up on some chores in the yard. It's morning and I'm sitting at my computer, just three feet from the kitchen deck door. I set my canary, Migwe, outside on the deck to get some fresh air and some face time with his goldfinch friends. I hear his cage door rattling extra loudly. I turn my head to see a squirrel opening the canary cage to eat the canary food inside. How dare he?

A Fearsome Quartet

Today I worked six hours on my capstone project again from my latest Master Naturalist Class. Three women and I drove to Richfield for the free mulch. We're getting almost all free things to spruce up the entry garden at the Wildlife Science Center. We planted free native wild plants. Lets see how many plants I can remember: anise hyssop (see photo), false lily of the valley, Solomon's seal, lady fern, sensitive fern, pagoda dogwood, violets, zigzag goldenrod, Pennsylvania sedge, jack-in-the-pulpit, large leafed aster, wild sunflower, and I know we had more, I just can't remember the names. We laid down three ply of newspapers, wet it down, and shoveled mulch on top. A veery (bird from the thrush family) sang it's pretty flute -like sound while we worked. I just learned that bird song and was happy to share it with the others. The veery sang and sang until we all learned the sound. We labeled the plants with pretty rocks one woman found. We wrote the names of the wild plants on the rocks with a paint pen and sprayed them with a clear sealer. The garden really turned out pretty. We have more to do. We might paint the propane tank brown or hunter green. We might make some wolf cutouts to disguise the fence. We might work more on the other side of the path. We might make a sign explaining the garden. We will probably bring in another load of mulch too. It is so fun to garden with other women. One of us would have a question. We'd offer our opinions and solve it as a group. We make a fearsome quartet! One woman took pictures. I'll try to get one to post here.

Third and Final Frog Survey

Last night a sibling, a niece and I went on the third and final frog survey in Kannebec County. There we were, standing on a country road in the dark, listening for frogs. The temperature between 9:30 and 11 p.m. varied between 82 and 84 degrees. It was HOT! In some spots the breeze kept the mosquitoes away but not all. The mosquitoes were relentless. For the first minute after we got out of the car it wasn't so bad. After a minute, all neighboring mosquitoes honed in our scent and used a blitzkrieg attack. We had to listen for frogs at each of the ten spots for five minutes. Five minutes under mosquito attack can feel like a half hour. The biting is bad but their constant brushing against you and whining in your ears can drive a person buggy. These state birds were so hungry they would bite us through blue jean material. We used repellent and it helped some. When the five minutes were up, three people and 78 mosquitoes would jump into the car and drive to the next spot. The mosquitoes were so thick in the car I could hardly see to drive. Did I mention the mosquitoes were bad? Well, they were. On the last survey on May 15. we were positively deafened by the croaking of the frogs. We heard frogs at every stop and sometimes 5 species at the same stop. On this survey we heard frogs at only 4 of the 10 stops and only one species at a time. We heard gray tree frogs and mink frogs. I had not heard mink frogs before (see photo). They make a sharp rapping sound like the sound of horses hooves on cobblestone. Why were the frogs so quiet? Is mating season over for most of them? Was it too hot to think of love? Was the noise of fireworks scaring them? Maybe they were quiet so the mosquitoes would leave them alone. By the tenth stop I was more than ready to be done. The mosquitoes, the heat, and my itchy face rash had put me over the top. Driving out of there we saw something ahead on the dark country road. Was it a deer? A coyote? It was gray in color and large in size. As the driver I was trying to predict it's direction as it took off and as I slammed on the brakes. Would it go right or left? To my surprise, and the surprise on my passengers, it went up, straight up into the sky and disappeared into the blackness. We saw the huge wingspan and the large dangling legs of an owl. We saw the back of it's rounded head so I would guess a great gray owl. How ironic to see an owl on our frog survey. We saw and heard no owls on our owl survey. Despite the discomfort and the mosquitoes, I think we'll sign up again to do it next year.

Curses!

I started getting a rash on Friday. The rash started around my mouth and spread to my chin and forehead. I thought I got too much sun but it wasn't that. I toughed it out at first. It spread to my neck, my left arm, and right leg. This morning the rash was near my right eye so I went to urgent care. I was so glad they were open today. "Contact dermatitis," he said, "Probably poison ivy." I cannot believe I got poison ivy on my face. What was I doing? Eating it? It's all around my mouth! Was I grazing in the weeds? What. The. Heck. I am prone to poison ivy and have been since I was in elementary school. Usually I get it on the legs, not the face, although this is not the first time I've gotten it on my face. And I am very careful to avoid it. I know what it looks like. My eyes are peeled for that stuff. I've been really lucky avoiding it ever since Ruby, my golden retriever passed away. She would walk through it and then rub herself against me. Now that I know it's poison ivy, it itches worse than before I knew. I have a prescription for prednisone. I'm taking steroids. I've done this before. I know the drill. By the end of the week I'll be anxious and unable to sit still. My leg is already jiggling right now and I just took the first dose. I take allergy pills daily. The doctor said taking Claritan is like "Spitting in the wind." What does that mean? If I spit in the wind (which I wouldn't do, this is just hypothetical), I'd probably get spit on my face. Claritan is like spitting on yourself? Maybe he means it won't help much. He suggested zyrtec. He said it will make me sleepy and to take it at night. Cripes. I gotta say, this has not been the finest week for me.

To Infinity and Beyond!

Last night a friend of mine and I went to see Toy Story Three. We needed to lighten our moods. With this friend, I get a little inappropriate. We go too far on some subjects. Before the show, we're sitting in the theater with our classy 3D glasses on, debating whether Woody or Buzz Lightyear would be better in the sack. See what I mean about inappropriate? Woody seemed to be the likely choice and not just because of his name. He has a warmer personality and seems more interactive. Buzz Lightyear is all business and perfectionistic. I mean think of it. Infinity and beyond? Who could keep up with that? Midway through the show, some evil toys adjust the switch on Buzz Lightyear's back. His friends try to help him. They get the manual and they don't follow the directions very carefully. I won't give too much of the movie away when I tell you that Buzz starts speaking Spanish and acting differently. He starts dancing the flamenco with Jesse. And he's a really good dancer. And his Spanish is so, how do I put this, so Antonia Banderas like. The scales on who would be better in the sack start tipping toward Buzz all of a sudden. We enjoyed the movie. We laughed. We cried. We lusted after animated characters on the big screen. Barbie and Ken were hilarious. The rolling telephone with the eyes that go up and down was a tortured character. The barrels of monkeys were evil. Ken and his gambling pals used a "See and Say" like a roulette table. Watch it for yourself. Buzz or Woody?

Some Days Don't Go As You Had Planned

This morning I was the owner of a motorcycle. This afternoon, on the carpet where the motorcycle rested, lies a helmet, a jacket and a pair of saddlebags. Pitiful. It all started on the way to work. I was tooling along a quiet road to avoid the heavy traffic on Bunker and the detour on Main Street. I hear a sound. Did I drop something? Did I run over something? I didn't see anything in the road. My motor sounds louder. As I approach a stoplight I hear a heavy, metallic, ka-chunk. My heart cringes. This does not sound good. The sound came from between my feet - the motor. At the red light the motor dies. There is no starting it. I wait until traffic clears and run it over to the corner and onto the sidewalk. I try to start it again. Nothing. I get off and look at the motor. I look at the other side. I don't see anything missing or dangling or different. I try a couple more times. My headlight is on so I know I have battery power. The gas tank is nearly full. The oil level is good. It still won't start. I could look at it all day long and not know what is wrong. The time is 7:10 a.m. I call my work. The office manager says she will come and get me. She helps me push the bike across Hanson and into a parking lot. I get permission from the store owner to leave the bike there a while. As we walk into work I meet a friend, Ed. Ed has helped me with my motorcycle problems. He says we'll look at it at 9:30. At 9:30 we look at it. Doesn't look good. He rocks it back and forth, back and forth. We talk about how much money is worth putting into this old bike. We discuss where to get it fixed. Suddenly it starts. I drive it to the repair shop and he follows me. I leave it running while the mechanic comes out to look at it. He guns the engine. We can all hear the crunching noise in the motor. It's not safe to drive. The repair estimate is almost half the cost of the bike when I bought it two years ago. I could trailer it home and sell it on Craig's list. I do not want the hassle of a dead motorcycle and dealing with Craig's list. Ed talks the mechanic into buying it from me. I don't own a motorcycle right now and I'm sad about that. But I am grateful the motor didn't seize up when I was going at a high speed. I'm grateful this happened at work where my wonderful friends could easily come to my aid and rescue me. I'm grateful the bike didn't nickle and dime me to death. The Suzuki worked fine until it didn't work at all. I'm grateful it started at 9:30 and I could get an instant mechanical prognosis instead of trailering it to a shop and waiting for two weeks before hearing the bad news. Ed gave me a ride home to pick up my car. I immediately get into the car and go back to work. Before I get to work, he has another motorcycle picked out for me to look at. I will get another but not today. Right now I'm still adjusting to this day that did not go as I had planned.