Tomorrow is my first screening colonoscopy. I am three years late for this party. Between our travel schedule and Helena’s former shortage in persons that probe I couldn’t get this classic right of passage into ‘you’re over the hill’ scheduled. Here are some flood photos in honor of my personal flush.
My 53rd birthday has come and gone since I last posted. Burt and I have been taking advantage of the extra long days and wandering far and wide taking in the Montana scenery. The old saw of “If you don’t like the weather in Montana…just wait 15 minutes” is proving itself true. We’ve had balmy, warm. sunny days interspersed with snow and gilded with rain. Three solid days of rain reignited the local flooding and sapped our solar power batteries. I keep telling Burt that we’re reducing our carbon footprint by refusing to fix the furnace and going without power when the sun stays away for too long. It’s helped me toughen up.
On my actual birthday we birded, played Bridge, went to a new restaurant and took in a show. It was all enjoyable but the Bridge. The Thursday crowd is a tough one and Burt and I were shredded. Proverbial ribbons or mincemeat or chum. Pick your favorite ass-kicking analogy. Our pictures will be in the dictionary next to chump.
Two days later we rejoiced in helping Montana celebrate the 25th anniversary of its first Pride parade. I remember the first event and it gives me hope to see how much has improved in twenty five years. There is so much wrong and too much work still to be done to secure human rights for everyone but I was uplifted by the energy of Saturday’s event. Despite heavy rain and frigid temperatures the parade was well attended and local business were busy. Our spirit of love kept us all warm.
I just ate a book. I mean I that. I consumed it and it is now in my DNA. Hope Jahren has written a memoir of beautifully melded failure and success, helplessness and victory, science and love. I found it so relatable that for the first time ever I thought, wow, I’ve got to write her a letter and say, “Thanks for writing this book.” So I did. And I’ll tell you, this book is worth your time.
I came by this book accidentally when a friend handed it to me and said she couldn’t get going on it and maybe I would like to try. I had no idea what I was getting into. Apparently this book is the rage on the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math education) for Women circuit. I was out of the loop. Dr. Jahren takes us on her journey from a lonely childhood where she worshiped science through her education and onto career in academia. She even landed at Georgia Tech for a few years. Meanwhile she shares in crystal clear and devastating detail the hurdles of sexism, mental illness, and the difficulties of a career in scientific research. She’s quick witted and to the point. Meanwhile there’s a bunch of cool tree information interspersed that makes you see the world of trees in a whole knew way. Trees as nurturing communities and cunning competitors. Trees as vital to our survival. It all relates back to how we as humans live.
In some way I feel less along in the world by having read her story. I once stood on the precipice of a career in academia. I was approached by two professors to consider continuing on in grad school as their student. It was flattering but I was sick of it all. I felt like they needed to fill the female quota and I was just standing there looking malleable. I certainly didn’t have the drive for a life in engineering research (structures or soils). I needed a job. This book reinforced to me that I made the right decision and also let me see just how it might have been. It also felt kinship with the constant struggle to be taken seriously as a woman in science. There’s a paragraph in the book, only one, that covers it head on: Women are always too this and not enough that in constant contradiction. Not womanly enough, too manly, too direct, too circumspect, too good looking, too ugly, too fat, too thin.
Read this book
We had a garage sale and it was a success. The clients got rid of a ton of things and now the garage is available for work space. Meanwhile I’m continuing on my medical checklists. Mammogram done and all clear. Heart monitor off, we’re waiting word on the results. My blood work was fabulous. I started a new heart medication. I got the first shot of the new shingles vaccine. The long delayed colonoscopy is scheduled. My night guard to protect my teeth and jaw is under construction. I’ve been walking many miles counting birds and practicing my fiddle. Burt has been working diligently.
Olive has become my main walking companion. It’s tough to leave Elvis home. He’s a trim and healthy looking 12 year old but he has lost his get up and go. He’d rather sleep in the trailer than walk, especially if the walk is uphill. I give him happy pills for those days he does too much but mostly I leave him behind. Olive seems pleased to be doggy number one. She minds very well and likes to get out and see the world. I sometimes wonder if Elvis and Mimi are in a battle of the wills to see who can outlast whom.
This week Burt and I drove from one end of Montana to the other. Jardine on the edge of northern Yellowstone National Park first and then Kila, just west of Glacier National Park a few days later. It is green out there. Signs of life and death are all around. We’ve eBirded a heap of locations and I feel like I have no idea what is happening out there. Bird song is everywhere and almost all of it is incomprehensible to me.
On Memorial Day we took a short break on our drive back to Helena at the regular put-in for the Dearborn River. There is a popular 19 mile float that launches from a highway bridge right of way. The place was loaded with shuttle vehicles. This is a special river for Burt and me and we hope to float it soon. The area is known for rattlesnakes and I gave a hearty scream when a four foot gopher snake came right at me and slithered by my foot. A friend commented on my photo and asked why I got so close. I was just standing there. The snake came at me.
Another day I found mating spiders. Jen, Robin, and Burt all came running when I told them spiders were having sex, so I am not the only oddball in this family. The male and female caught my eye when I saw them end to end in a web. I initially presumed it was either a meal or a molt. Spider molts often look like dead spiders. I took a close look and scared them apart but they were so into it they immediately regrouped. The male spider passed golden globules of semen from his palps to the female’s abdominal orifices. Right, left, right, in and out. On and on it went. Shining globes disappeared one after another. For hours. I found three more pairs of the same spider species doing the same thing nearby. Love was in the air. The next day it was over. No sign of the male. I fear they were eaten.
Just be glad I didn’t do a selfie at my mammogram this morning. Those things are so painful I can’t even bring myself to look at my own boob crushed in plexiglass. My mind imagines a 2-D version kind of like a topo map versus the landscape. Veins, moles, stretch marks instead of roads, mountains and rivers. No thanks. Our relative stasis in our hometown means it’s time for catching up on all medical procedures. I’ve done the eye doctor, the dentist, the internist, the cardiologist. I have to still do a colonoscopy and follow up on new heart medications. Stay tuned for the colonoscopy selfie. Presuming all goes well I should have this wrapped up in a month.
Being in Helena is uncomfortable and wonderful. I don’t have a place in the most of the relationships I used to have. That’s the price you pay when you live on the road. Plus my old friends are all still working. They can’t just go for a walk any time. Then summer is manic in Montana. Even if people want to see each other it can be hard to find time. Everyone is trying to get outside and hike or boat or camp while they can. On the great side my best friend is next door and there’s twice a week Bridge and music lessons. Next up I’ll share some pictures of what we’ve been up to for fun.
In the Galapagos every place seems far away and everything in Montana seems close. When we visited the famous mail box of the Floreana Island I happily snatched up three post cards from our area and thought it would be fun to deliver them to the addresses. The post box is a three hundred year old whisky cask and has been in use since 1793. For over three centuries people have left their mail in the hopes that other travelers would help it get home. The system is easy. You drop off a card and subsequent passersby look through the addresses and take any letters they can deliver.
In my enthusiasm I grabbed Livingston, MT, Idaho Falls, ID, and Stevensville, MT. Two weeks ago we were driving through Idaho Falls and I couldn’t find the post cards. What a loser. Idaho card looms over my head. Luckily we drive through there nearly twice a year. The cards are now in the glove box ready when we are. This weekend we barely found the address of the Livingston card. Google Maps had us looking for a home deep in open country. Luckily the nearest house was the place. It was only a mile away from the GPS dot. Sadly nobody was home. I hope young Sam still lives there. I found him on Facebook and sent him a message after we dropped it but so far no response. The location could not get more stereotypical Montana. A historic ranch, a shovel with the house number, an antique table on the porch. It was all so green and idyllic. Too bad the young cowboy was not there to complete the montage.
Stevensville card weighs on my mind. Why did I pick this one? I never get to Stevensville. I think the note was called to me. Mom sent a sweet words to her daughter. Maybe this week on our way home from Kila we will take the hour detour and deliver the card. Maybe not. Maybe some other time.
The Gypsy Carpenters have been on the job less than a week and almost all demolition has been completed and major style decisions are made. The cabinets and counters are measured and ordered and paid. Tile and bath and faucets and flooring have been selected. Now we just need to find an electrician. Hopefully that will become clear tomorrow.
Besides intensely working (we’re sore and tired) we have managed to fit in some fun, too. I had my first fiddle lesson with Mike on Friday. Mike was my first music teacher nearly twenty years ago. It’s a little weird to be back sitting in his studio after a ten year hiatus. We learned a hornpipe and worked on some tunes I already knew. We’ve also played music for fun with our former WMD band mates Todd and Barb. Todd and his wife Gretchen left Helena right after we hit the road and they returned to stay a couple of weeks ago. Fortuitous timing for all of us.
Today we are celebrating Burt’s birthday with a trip to see some live local theater. The Full Monty is on at Helena’s Grandstreet Theater. I am embarrassed to admit this is my first visit to our local theater institution. As they say better late than never. It took a while for me to figure out my husband is a fan of live theater. I grew up in Drama Club and drifted away. We’re both looking forward to this hilarious and bawdy show.
This beautiful kitchen is already a thing of the past. Twenty-two years ago Burt and his partner Ralph built this house for our clients. Twenty-two years ago Burt said the kitchen and dining room were a bad design. Burt thought the dividing wall should be removed. Twenty-two years later Burt is getting what he wants. This morning we started demolition. Every nail I pull I think, “Why did he build this so well. Couldn’t he have skipped a few of these nails?”
If your worried about these beautiful cabinets, have no fear of waste. These old cabinets have a new home. Next year you might see us reinstalling them somewhere else. This year’s job includes the kitchen remodel, a master bath and laundry room remodel and new flooring throughout the main floor. After three hours I’m already sore. It’s going to be a long summer as I get into carpentry condition.
Global Big Day 2018 is still happening but we are done. For months I’ve been trying to figure out where to bird for the annual global census. I knew we wouldn’t be in Baja and it made me sad. For three years we’ve done our best to get the Baja birds and our neighborhoods represented on the annual event. This year it just wasn’t meant to be. For the last week Burt and I looked at maps and did some side excursions and as we steadily headed to our job in Montana. It’s intimidating trying to bird a new area. New species, unfamiliar terrain, logistics with the trailer were all conspiring against us.
Two days ago we were at the Nelson Morley Birds of Prey National Wildlife Refuge in central Idaho. This seemed like a good spot. After birding it Thursday evening we realized it was just too difficult to sort out the raptors and we felt hemmed in by the canyon walls and the narrow riparian area. I looked at the map and decided we should bail and head for the Camas National Wildlife Refuge. Camas NWR is famous for its waterfowl and waterfowl are pretty easy to key out if you come across a mysterious bird. Despite this feeling of inadequacy at the Nelson Morley NWR we landed 6 new life birds. Or at least eBird says they were new birds. Since I’ve only been listing for a few years it’s still easy to land a new bird that I might have seen many times in the past.
We arrived at Camas yesterday around 4:30 PM. I was hoping there would be signs of life and some kind of official participation in the Global Big Day. No and no. A sad state of affairs for one of birding’s most important citizen science events. The place was empty and there was no camping allowed. Burt and I did an afternoon reconnaissance of the birds and liked what we saw. There was a lot going on. Owls and kestrels and blackbirds everywhere. Since we were happy to spend the day at Camas NWR and likely would be the only people officially birding it was worth a short drive off to a rest area to spend the night. I was relieved to know we’d finally found a place to spend the day.
It all worked out just great. We saw 52 species of birds and did 12 checklists over 5 hours. Camas NWR is a sprawling wetland and every time we got in the car we had to start a new list. That’s how it goes doing science. Delightful short-eared owls kept popping up out of the reeds while northern harriers did sky acrobatics. The waterfowl were not so many that we couldn’t count but diverse enough that we had to study the water surfaces each time we left the car. We found a pair of great horned owls and a bald eagle nest with two fledglings. Burt’s favorite bird today was the harrier. I likes the owls. And the porcupine.
Now we are resting in a rest area. Tomorrow it’s time to work.