kittens, squash blossoms, and stormy Julys.

It felt a lot like fall today, blustery, sudden bursts of smacking rain, bruised sky. Molly, Justin, the dogs, and I went up to my mom's farm to clean the animal pens and see the new kittens (three days old!). They were neat, sharp claws for having no eyes. Kind of squashed looking. But, helpless and easy to hold, unlike most cats. Lilli, their mom, is so sweet, and looks much better without a stomach full of heads and legs poking through her fur. We'll see if we can resist taking one. Probably. Not.
I am thinking about offering Justin a half lease on Maddie. I really don't think I am going to sell her ever. It's just a guilty, expensive task to keep her. So, sharing the load with someone who really appreciates horses might be a great thing. But there are a lot of drawbacks. So, we'll see. I posted her for pretty much free on Craigslist. I'll see the responses I get and talk to Molly's folks about the idea. But I did get my saddle from the farm to clean up. It's in shabby shape. And I got Maddie's bridle, but that thing is run ragged. We'll see how it shapes up with some Neatsfoot Oil and elbow grease. Oh, I also found a sour cherry tree at my mom's today. Bill didn't even know it was there. It was frickin' laden. We picked about 4 cups. But I need to get more. I really didn't want to leave. And that's a rarity for Mom's.

Last thing on this stormy summer day... I picked two male squash blossoms off our acorn squash and zucchini. I pulled the squash penis out of the middle (fine, the stamen, less intriguing sounding though) and packed 'em full of ricotta, thyme, toasted pine nuts, a little salt, and honey. Then fried them in beer batter. Delish. No joke. We'll have to wait for the squash to ripen so we can take the lady blossoms next.

I also looked through a seed catalog and figured out I could spend a substantial portion of my stimulus check getting baby vegetables for winter. Probably not a good idea.

Eleven days until PAT practice one! Feeling pretty good about it. I squatted 205 pounds as a max yesterday. I shoulder pressed 85 (not my proudest number) and deadlifted 210. I did three of Rose's circuits today with light weight (15#) and minimum reps on each exercise. But, I did add in pull-ups and dips, which I hadn't been doing because of my shoulder and elbow, respectively. I finished just over five minutes on the first two sets, and broke five minutes on the last set.

I think I'm going to ask for a pull-up bar for my birthday. Laying a 2x4 across a ladder and the chicken run was not ideal.

I am very pleased with today.

learning how to loosen up.

The problem with being a perfectionist is that exactness knows no bounds. So, you find yourself digging deeper and deeper into issues that, for most people, are non-existent. Like buying a scrub brush. Wanting one that's isn't something you just throw out over and over and over but also one that actually works and, oh yes, please Made in the USA. Really? Too much. It's just too much. And this is how it goes with everything. The problem is, when you try to "learn" and "plan things out", not a whole lot gets done except your brain is crammed with too many options and too much knowledge so you get overwhelmed and take a break, get a glass of chocolate milk, and wander around the house/the yard/the street. Nothing happens. When you're sitting around and start tinkering with something, that's when you'll put in a garden bed or clean the kitchen or wash your truck. It's when it's unplanned that the most happens, maybe because something is more than nothing so the scale of comparison is so much more lenient. Or maybe it's because you're actually doing rather than preparing. This is the struggle. The trick is that you can't intentionally do nothing so that you do something. That's doing something. You can't force the spontaneity and the resulting productivity. When you try to trick yourself into just randomly getting something done you end up sitting around, wondering what the most spontaneous project could be and how exactly you should start doing it. It's like blocking out fifteen minutes to be happy or to meditate or feel angry at someone. But, there are things in life that need to/should get done. It's not just crazy, over-analytical people that understand this. But, it's figuring out how to get things done without the crazies. If you tell a perfectionist to stop being a perfectionist she'll immediately check out five books on breaking the perfectionist habit, compile step-by-step lists on weaning herself from lists, and block in "free" periods into her day, during which she'll probably sit there full of anxiety, eager for the next time block of tasks. You can't use the devil's tools to do good.

Those rare times you actually channel all this energy into a project are those moments where you are glad you're a perfectionist. When your boss tells you you went above and beyond or your friend is pleased by a birthday gift you worked long and hard on it makes it seem worth the inability to lose control. Almost. That other 95% of life is wasted wondering how to shape the future.

long weekend.

I had my weekend off finally. It was glorious. I managed to plan very loosely, something I do not excel at. But, Molly and I went out on Friday, managing to drag ourselves home at 1:30am, full of Beth's Cafe. We got up at 9am on Saturday and were supposed to be going to my Mom's and Dad's (a journey in one day). But, I'd found this hurt pigeon outside my work on Friday and brought it home with me. It was dragging itself around the Billings Middle School parking lot, trying to look like it was just sunning itself when it saw me eying it. But I knew better when I was able to catch the little guy (comes from years of herding chickens, natural talent). I called PAWS when I got home but they said they were too full for a pigeon. They said to try this shelter in Arlington. So, we thought we'd drive to Arlington, then Whidbey Island, then Port Townsend. Like I said, we finally got out of bed at 9am. Yeah right we're going to all those places. I really wanted to workout at least some and I was not feeling the whirlwind tour of Puget Sound (but, just you wait, we took one anyways). After much debate, we decided to just go to my Dad's and go to my Mom's on Tuesday but then we needed an animal shelter closer to PT, since we weren't going north at all. So, I did creepy sprints on the side of the house and cursed my bum elbow. Side note: I am so f-ing sick of tennis elbow. I hate tennis, have no idea how to play, and can't wear white for more than five minutes without being covered in stains (and I'd pit out a white tennis polo in no time). So, why the hell do I have tennis elbow in my good arm right before the time when I need this arm quite a bit? It's raising my blood pressure. Anyways, we made good omelettes and bummed around the house, waiting to hear back from my Dad. We sat in the back yard with the chickens (still no eggs!! lazy!). Every time we would move around the yard we'd be accompanied by the two dogs and Lily. Sometimes the chickens would run hop fly bounce over but would then run hop fly bounce away about as fast as they showed up. It's a little gross to be in the back yard and see animals pop up over fences and dart around corners and jump onto the benches made for people. A little gross, but I love it.

So, long story short, we ended up going to Port Townsend, with the pigeon and both dogs. We got down to the Bainbridge ferry with only a few minutes to spare and there was a cop out directing traffic, looked to be a back up, and we made the decision to drive around (through Tacoma) rather than wait in the ferry line and have the dogs roast in the canopy. The pigeon seemed cool with it too. So, we drove, and managed to get there in about the same time as the ferry and for about the same price, probably less. It was a good drive, a little lonely since Molly always falls asleep. But the sun was right and the car was cool once we got off I-5 and onto the peninsula. We were trying to get to PT by 6:00 so I could meet a friend from North. Dropping the pigeon off would have made us very late so we decided to put it off until Sunday and keep driving. Then, on Hwy 104 just before the turnoff for Port Townsend, my car started to sputter and lurch up this hill. I'd been flooring it in 5th gear and decreasing in speed. Then it got pissed. So, I pulled onto the shoulder, got out and popped the hood to look at everything I knew nothing about. I checked the oil, because that's pretty much all I am sufficient at mechanically, and lo, there was pretty much none in there. I thought I'd put in a bunch recently but that was probably longer ago than I thought. The nearest gas station was the Beaver Valley Store and that was probably three miles away. So, Molly helped me paw through the rubble behind my seat to see what treasures lay beneath. We found four quarts of oil, all empty. So, she sat in the front seat, handing me each quart, one at a time so I could treat it like a cold bottle of ketchup and whap every last drop into my tank. One had a full tablespoon, that was rewarding. At the time, it seemed fine that this was happening. But, once we were crawling to the gas station, having re-entered the flow of traffic from a stop on the shoulder on a hill (not pleasant) I wondered if it should be routine to pull over on a two lane highway to milk old cartons of oil, wearing my new favorite shirt (a homemade muscle t that was supposed to be costume for the white trash party the night before) while my girlfriend sits shotgun next to a broken, caged pigeon, with two dogs crying in the bed of the truck. But, we made it, only 45 minutes late to meet up with my friend and that's really what matters.

We hiked today. Good time except we almost had to leave Charlie behind. The poor guy laid down in a stream on the way down, he was so hot and tired. And, he'd already drank most of our water (64oz for a 3-4 hour hike!). Greedy old man.

The pigeon was dropped off. I'm not sure he's going to make it. The wildlife guy said it looked like a joint injury and those are no good for birds. But he gave me his "case number" so I could call and check on him.

Now we're home. The chickens are good (no eggs of course) and the cats are needy and annoyed. And the dogs are passed out cold. A good day.

competative chicks.

Had a nice workout in the side yard, like a hick. The dogs and I went out there in our glorious short shorts and set up a nice obstacle course, Rose seems to love these things. Of course once the chickens saw how much fun we were all having working up a sweat they demanded they be allowed to participate. Super competitive, I tell you. I excelled at the tuck jumps (since I have knees) but they were killing me on the one-legged squat jumps. Probably because they don't have knees and also they were able to get some serious air with the help of their wings. The dogs were in the shade by this point and it was really just down to me and the hens, duking it out, set by set. I just barely beat them on the 40 yard sprints (we had to do it in shuttles since the yard isn't that long). But, it was a tie on the egg laying contest since none of us lay eggs. Maybe they should work on that.

one-track mind.

Molly and I went down to the Pioneer Square Fire Days yesterday. It's a festival put on by the fire department with old engines on display, some booths of roasted corn and the firefighter combat challenge. I had thought the challenge was pretty much a steroided-out physical agility test but it seemed like it wasn't tougher than I imagine Tacoma's physical will be. The differences are that the firefighters were in turnouts (big difference) and that they were getting times under two minutes. Tacoma has a 7.5 minute cap on their test and you're only in your regular clothes. But, still, watching some of the firefighters struggle with parts of the course, especially when they were on relay teams, was a little scary. I feel like I'm half the size of some of those people (if any of the guys were 280lbs then I am literally half their size). I know I can make my size work to my advantage wherever possible (lower center of gravity, stronger lower body strength, proportionally) but it's still weird to see guys who's biceps are the size of my thigh. And a few of the girls in the course really struggled and I don't ever want to be that person. I'd rather throw up for hours afterwards than look incapable during something like that. (not that I think other people don't have that same pride - that's what's scary is seeing someone who knows they're on display and representing more than themselves, and having that person struggle). I'm really frustrated with my tennis elbow right now. It's such a stupid injury but a very persistent and stubborn one. But, I can't really get past thinking about this all the time. It's always in the back of my mind, or the front of it. I have a hard time splitting my attention and this is what currently has it.

a lot has happened

I meant to write in my blog many times over the past three weeks. But, the Friday after I took Tacoma's written test my horse (the one I keep trying to sell) colicked really bad. I was up most of the night with her and was pretty sure she was a goner for most of the time. I went to work late the next day and next to no sleep and tried to write a blog that night, super cracked out on emotions and little sleep. It ended up being so long, and only part way done, so I gave up on blogging for the night. And apparently for the past three weeks as well. Here is a summary of what's happened in the past three weeks:

I managed to spend over $800 on my horses in the course of two weeks. Maddie hurt her leg, then she colicked, then she and my other mare were due for their teeth being floated and getting spring shots. No good. That doesn't even count regular trips to the feed store where hay is now $26 a bale.

Al and I got matching tattoos. It was her idea, this picture that had hung in the same spot all growing up. It's just a sketch of two birds on a wire that my mom bought at the U Street Fair when she was UW student. Al got her's below her neck and I got mine on my left rib cage. Worst pain ever. Seriously. I was sweating so bad I saturated my shorts, it looked like I peed my pants when I finally got up. I had to take a break when I started to get light-headed. I couldn't take my mind off it, even though they were playing Hank III. I thought I was going to puke or pass out. Turns out that's one of the more sensitive spots you can get tattooed. I don't know if the tattoo lady was just throwing me a bone by saying that but at least I didn't pass out and crap my pants like someone else she told me about. She did an awesome job on the tattoo and besides being slimy and itchy and oozing for a while afterwards it healed nicely.

Gay Pride happened. Apparently Tara does not care for Seattle Public Utility.

My uncle got married on the Fourth of July. That was rad. Kristi is his new wife and she's a great lady and has a really cute little boy, Reece.

We finished the chicken coop, actually on the Fourth of July. Molly and I got up at 6:30 to finish putting wire on the run. The door didn't hang well so that ended up being big slabs of plywood tacked in place. But that bitch is finally done.

Our garden is doing super well. The tomatoes are huge and starting to flower. The zucchini all of a sudden decided it wanted to actually grow. Same with the acorn squash. The tomatillos are giant. The lettuce is out of control and threatening to bolt every time it gets a couple good days of sun. The broccoli is beginning to get little florets. The only thing refusing to f-ing grow is the peppers. I even planted the onions and leeks today so they would finally get out of their pots.

I passed my written test with Tacoma. I scored a 91 (better than I thought). They don't rank you individually like Seattle Fire does. You get a rank based on your score and share that rank with everyone else that got the same score. I ranked 15th. My friend from North got that same rank last year and she's half way through probation with them now. I'm taking that as a good luck omen. I just need to train my ass off for the physical. Yesterday I drug a tire up a grass hill at my mom's. That wasn't terrible so I attached a cinder block that would catch when I was 1/4 of the way up the hill. All-in-all it probably only weighed 50 pounds. But if you drag it up a hill for 140 feet and that damn cinder block gets stuck in divets and flops over clumps of dried grass, it feels damn heavy.

And I found out my uncle has kidney cancer. He's my dad's older brother. I haven't talked to my cousins but I hope they're doing well. I should get in touch with them to see how they're doing. I talked to my uncle for about half an hour a couple days ago. He had to have surgery on his carotid artery because it had partial blockage. They had to first take care of that before scheduling him for his kidney surgery (next month). He's doing well. He didn't talk much at all about the cancer but had a really good attitude. I admire him a lot for his outlook. I am eager for him to have the treatment though so he can begin healing. I want to talk to my dad about it but he didn't seem to want to say much last time. It makes me nervous. I don't want to talk too much or too little but I want to do right by my dad and uncle.

That's been the past few weeks.