Blisters; I think I'm going soft

We sent a couple days this week up at our cabin helping my dad clear some felled trees. It was good to get out and do some physical work again, I've spent too much time this summer messing around with and recuperating from my surgery. But apparently going much of the summer without hardly putting on my work boots has allowed my feet to soften. I have one good sized blister and one pretty good sore spot on the other foot, but it was worth it.

Living in the Future

Living in the Future

The Seattle Monorail seems a little old and dated to many people. To Sophia it was the epitome of technological advancement. A girl for whom iPads, cell-phones, and computers are commonplace is wowed by mass transit. Seems at once ironic, yet perfectly predictable.

Sometimes it is hard to tell what is going through Sophia's mind

Sometimes it is hard to tell what is going through Sophia's mind

The lamp in her hands is an LED one that she'd stolen. It doesn't get hot, so she couldn't burn herself.

By popular demand. (Bear pooping #1)

By popular demand. (Bear pooping #1)

What happened next...

(Unfortunately this was taken with our first 1.3 megapixel Sony digital.)

Some thoughts on gratitude (and Wil Wheaton)

I was just reading one of Wil Wheaton's blog postings (You may ask yourself, "well, how did I get here?"), and I realized something. Wil, along with most or all of the people whom I am fans of have a deep sense of gratitude. There are many famous actors and writers that I couldn't care less about. People who I will happily watch their movies or read their books, but I won't follow on Twitter or stand in line to shake their hand.

Quizzical

Quizzical

Ruth took this while we were on a drive over the Beartooth Highway with our friend MJ. Sometimes its hard to tell if Sophia is 2, 12 or 32. For some reason her expression just seems so grown-up to me.

Why I'm not on FaceBook (and not likely to join)

FaceBook has gotten big lately. I mean really, really big. So big, that it strains credulity that there might be people who choose not to connect with all their friends, loved ones, friends of loved ones, enemies, frenemies, and that one person you met on vacation and friended but don't really know but are too nice to unfriend. How can people not want to join this amazing thing?

Post Surgery

As I write this is is roughly a week and a half since I had my adrenalectomy to remove a tumor. The surgery was mostly a success, in that it accomplished the task of removing my adrenal gland. However, it turns out that there was nothing wrong with it and the tumor was only adjacent to it rather than growing out of it, but a person can live a normal life with only one gland, so it's okay that it's gone. The tumor itself was significantly more complex and slightly larger than appeared on the Contrast CT. It also grew along the vena cava to below the vein that feeds the kidney.

Tomorrow: Under the Knife

Just a quick post to say that I have surgery tomorrow to remove my adrenal tumor. It isn't a particularly dangerous surgery, and it seems pretty unlikely that the tumor is cancerous. There is a fair chance that it's what's known as a Conn's Tumor, and if so it will explain all of the strange symptoms I've had for some years now, but had been attributing to asthma (and the meds to treat it). I should just be in the hospital overnight, though it sounds like there will be a fair amount of accompanying pain. I'm sure I'm macho enough to handle that no problem.

Wild Dreams of a New Beginning

Wild Dreams of a New Beginning

Ruth and Sophia were looking at a train on the railroad, half a mile away and a few hundred feet above us.

Although this image has no real bearing upon the subject of the poem, when I first looked at it on the computer I though of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's Wild Dreams of a New Beginning. Here are a few lines that seems most fitting:

"...
Eyes smell flowers and become them
...
the washed land awakes again to wilderness
the only sound a vast thrumming of crickets"

and here is the full text for those with the inclination to read the entire poem:

Wild Dreams of a New Beginning

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