Archive for September 2016
Uncharacteristic Wetness
Over and over, day after day, waves of precipitation have been dumping rain on top of the rain from the day before. Even though we might get a couple of dry days every so often between the waves, it hasn’t been enough time for the ground to drain.
This isn’t the kind of weather we usually get at this time of year. In my lifetime, the middle of summer would be when lawns started to turn brown and required watering. As fall arrived, the creek beds and swamps would all be dry.
That doesn’t seem to be happening anymore. Last year, I was surprised that I had to keep mowing the lawn just as frequently in the fall as I did in the spring. Now it is happening again, although this year it is even worse. I can’t keep up with mowing the fast-growing grass because the rain has been too persistent.
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The wetness this year has led to the dermatitis our horses are dealing with, and yesterday I noticed the excessive moisture is starting to show up on the house and garage. The step to the front door of our house stayed wet along the seam and was showing signs of moss growth. The stones along the base of the garage are turning green with algae.
It feels like the climate is changing.
I wonder if anyone is looking into the possibility.
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Not There
It has been 15 months since I began paying attention to how much sugar I was consuming on a daily basis and trying to achieve a level closer to the World Health Organization’s recommendation of limiting sugar to only 5-10% of my daily calories. Prior to that time, I was consuming the daily total and more by the completion of my breakfasts. By the end of the days, I was likely hitting somewhere around quadruple the recommended amount.
For more than a year I have been measuring the amount of cereal and yogurt I serve myself to keep the serving size small enough to provide no more than 10 grams of sugar per meal. Based on a 2000 calorie per day diet, I was aiming to stay below around 200 of those calories to come from sugar.
One gram of sugar contains 3.87 calories.
One trick with my plan is keeping the total calories at the daily target of 2000. The average American diet all too easily exceeds that amount. So, by wanting to reduce my sugar intake, I found myself also bringing my total calories down. That is not something I ever bothered measuring before this effort.
I simply knew that I should aim for a balance of obvious healthy choices. At the same time, an addict will respond to urges that exceed what they know to be healthy. I was addicted to sugar.
Not only were the lab results for my blood work revealing I was pre-diabetic, I was uncomfortably pudging out. The love-handles and belly bulge, the flabby arms, and my usual full face were ever present and slowly expanding.
My main goal was to appease the pressure from my doctor to get my numbers down for glycosylated hemoglobin, or HbA1c. After a year of working on it, I was looking forward to this year’s physical to learn the results of my efforts.
Much to my surprise, I’m not there yet.
Two years ago, my HbA1c reading came in at 5.8. My clinic seeks a level of <5.7, so I was just barely outside their “normal” range. Thus, the diagnosis of “pre-diabetic.”
My results this time, after a year of attention to my sugar intake, came in at 5.9.
Humpf.
Doc says there may be some genetics involved, as well as the fact that as we age our pancreas function deteriorates. I figure it’s because I had eaten so many of Cyndie’s sweet caramel rolls over the years, it will take me longer than a year to purge the glucose from my system.
So, my HbA1c may not have come down where the doctor wants to see it, but in the past year I have pleasantly reduced most of that flab that I never liked and I’ve dropped 8 pounds since my last visit to the clinic.
I’ll claim that small victory and keep measuring my sugar grams in search of a lower number for the level of my hemoglobin-bound-to-glucose next year. I want to keep my diet below the daily amount of recommended sugar to help my body as much as possible.
My poor pancreas isn’t gettin’ any younger.
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New Affliction
What now? Last week, Cyndie alerted to what she thought was a cut wound above one of Hunter’s back hooves. She tried treating it by washing and applying an antiseptic and then we went away for the weekend. Upon our return, it appeared to be scabbing over, but it also seemed to be spreading.
An online search produced a pretty accurate match for mud fever. Not fun. She made an appointment with our vet to move up the annual fall visit to today so we can take care of this as quickly as possible.
The poor guy appears to be favoring it quite a bit and it is visibly swollen. Cyndie thinks it is getting painful for him, as he won’t let her do anything with it now.
The vet will be able to sedate Hunter which will allow them to clean it up and treat the disease.
We assume the frequent rains and prolonged resulting wetness we have been enduring is a contributing factor. One response to that will be to keep him stabled in the barn. Oh joy.
But I will accept that outcome if it will cut this disease short. From what I have read about it, this pastern dermatitis is not something we want to mess with. It is contagious, difficult to treat, and can quickly become a very serious condition.
Send us some love and healing to Hunter!
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Important
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it glides
like an idea does
flowing through
effortlessly
the good ones do anyway
but you have to be able to hear it
the way dogs do
tilting your head
expectantly
listening
for the nugget
nested amidst the clutter
a dancing derelict downburst
gushing forth wisdom
in rapid staccato bursts
that laugh at the universe
effortlessly and endlessly
but quietly
with a slight hint of hesitation
as if it were important
which it probably is
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New Routine
After spending the 3-day weekend as guests at a place we’ve never been before, getting home to the familiarity of the daily chores associated with caring for our animals can be a comfort. This thought led me to consider how I perceive the old routine, especially from the fresh perspective of the fabulous weekend we just enjoyed with the Walker family.
Traveling anywhere involves living with a limited selection of your clothes and devices, and getting oriented to a bed and bathroom other than your own. Back home again, places and things return to a level where you don’t have to think. Every thing just “is.”
When I went out to turn the compost piles and fix a flat tire on the wheelbarrow, it had a feeling of our old routine. Even though I saw that as a good thing, it occurred to me that “old routine” or “returning to the old grind” of the work week after a holiday weekend is more often framed as a negative.
I turned that around in a blink of mental gymnastics, choosing instead to consider our activities as routine, but new. We have done these things before, but never on September 6th in 2016.
Every day is a new day, even if we are doing something similar to what we’ve already done before.
This week is a time when school starts for a lot of people. We put the vacations of summer behind us and roll into another year’s routine.
Enjoy the familiar, but frame it as a brand new version.
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Return Trip
We will be on our way home today. This time, I will be driving with Cyndie instead of flying with George. The likelihood of storms in the area may force him to leave his plane here for now and come back to get it later.
We filled our last day yesterday with a variety of wonderful experiences. In the morning, we went for a hike on trails through Glendalough State Park across the road from the Walker’s driveway.
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At the top of a high spot, there was a platform where George knew of a geocache. He inventoried the contents and left a note marking our visit.
Our cell phones indicated we walked a 4-mile route over a combination of paved and rustic trails.
In the afternoon, we paddled a canoe and kayaks into the breaking waves blowing straight to our shoreline, bringing us to an idyllic creek that flows north out of Battle Lake and into another smaller lake inside the state park.
While these adventures were thoroughly satisfying, the biggest highlights for us were yet to come.
George and I pulled out the guitars and in no time, his mother had joined us which led to the inclusion of an aunt taking a turn and a cousin adding piano. We eventually found a couple of good sing-along songs that took advantage of the collective voices of everyone present, bringing us up to dinner time with good energy flowing.
Dinner was amazing. George’s dad served grilled ribs that were incredible. He had started preparing the meat a day earlier, and added a sauce that made the meal outstanding. Corn-on-the-cob served with the ribs was the pinnacle of freshness and sweetness, making the meal even better, which put the feast at a level where no adequate superlatives remain to describe it.
The meal couldn’t be topped, but they did so anyway. George’s grandpa wanted to treat everyone for ice cream at Granny’s Pantry in town. It took three cars to get us all there, and we weren’t the only large group thinking this would be a good place to be on Sunday evening of Labor Day weekend. The fact that the place was packed made the expedition that much more festive.
The multitude of especially delicious ice cream flavors available was simply frosting on the cake.
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Fly In
For years, I lived within bicycling distance of Flying Cloud Airport in Eden Prairie, yet I never attended any of their events. Yesterday, I walked among planes and talked with pilots at my first fly-in. It has me marveling over what I missed all those years.
It also has me appreciating all the money I have saved by not becoming a pilot. 🙂
With the Battle Lake airstrip within walking distance on a beautiful paved path past the Glendalough State Park, Cyndie and I hiked under the series of incoming aircraft to take in the spectacle. George was already there with an orange vest on as a volunteer helping direct traffic when planes taxied past the wandering spectators.
The incoming civilian small planes floated in with little fanfare while the louder, larger, and faster military planes made speedy passes and garnered the bulk of attention. I was filled with questions about the difference of all the designs and found an excellent teacher in George’s friend, Ed.
I first met Ed at an impromptu drop-in visit for dinner at George’s house. He had become a mentor for George during his time of instruction to earn a pilot’s license. While chatting about the typical first-meeting details that define us, we quickly surmised that Cyndie and I had purchased our home and property from his sister. We had an instant bond.
I also quickly learned why he made for a good mentor. He was not only an experienced pilot, but he had spent his career directing planes as a flight controller.
Flying, like so many other pursuits, holds an allure that can easily pull a person in all the way. Despite that, I learned, the number of pilots is on the decline. There are less young people entering the field than the number of flyers who are aging out.
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I’ve survived the pull of that flying thrill several times before, with pilot-friends Mike and Rich both bringing me along on flights, and the time when our son, Julian, was investigating the possibility. I think I’ll be able to withstand the pull again with George and Ed.
I wouldn’t help the averages, anyway. At this point, I’d just end up being another pilot in the 60-year-old bracket.
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Soul Nourishing
It is hard to grasp the wonder of feeling so comfortably a part of a family as we are enjoying with the Walkers at their lake home on Battle Lake near Glendalough State Park. We have been welcomed into the clan gathering, from 3-months to 80+ years old, and they have us feeling right at home.
The weather is feeling very September-like. It is comfortably warm, yet windy enough to be cool at the same time. The lake is incredibly clean, but churning to a very complex surface in the persistent blow.
I tagged along with George to the municipal airport where we landed Thursday evening, to see if we could help with any of the preparations for today’s annual fly-in. Sure enough, our timing was right to lend a hand with hauling tables and chairs from the school to one of the hangers.
Cyndie arrived late afternoon with contributions for the evening meal and we dined on delicious lasagna, celebrated a birthday with a brilliant berry festooned cheesecake, and then played cards into the night.
It feels a lot like life at the lake. I have no agenda but to go with the flow and soak up the sights and sounds that abound around me. It is nourishment for my soul, and it is feeling like a feast.
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Flying High
Cyndie and I have been invited to spend the long Labor Day holiday weekend at George’s family lake place in Battle Lake, MN, but we won’t be driving up together. That’s because I am already there. George flew me up yesterday evening in his small plane.
I raced home from work, threw some things in a bag, and off to the Red Wing airport we drove. A couple of hours later, he had me safe on the ground at the grass landing strip of the Battle Lake municipal airport, which is right next door to their lake home.
It was a beautiful evening and the flight was hardly bumpy. George had warned me it could be a rough ride, but we lucked out. I wasn’t at all uncomfortable and gleefully absorbed as much of the overhead perspective as possible before sights disappeared behind us as the miles slipped past.
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Cyndie will drive up to join us today after she tends to the morning chores. Our property sitter and animal caretaker, McKenna, will be overseeing operations at Wintervale while we are away.
Cyndie and I need to be back earlier than George does, so I will be riding back with her on Monday. I’m guessing the trip will seem a lot longer on the way home for me, than it did coming up.
We really flew!
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Relative Something 