Air quality isn't good right now

Today's sunrise at the Harbor

 When I went out to the coffee shop yesterday morning, the sun looked like an orange ball in the sky, making everything look a little strange. This is being caused by plenty of uncontrolled burns all over the state of Washington, as well as from Canada. From the AQI (Air Quality Index):

The region is experiencing air quality ranging from unhealthy for sensitive groups to unhealthy, particularly in areas close to active wildfires in Washington, Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming.

This happens every year about this time, because it's been a dry summer, as it usually is, but lately it's been hot, too, causing low humidity and lots of fires burning out of control. We have been spared for most of the year, but now it's catching up with us.  By around 9:00am, it had started to look a little more normal, and Steve and I walked down to the Harbor for a nice excursion. I didn't mind the cool temperature at all, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, the weather cleared and it began to heat up. Not too awfully much, really, and we are fortunate to be near Bellingham Bay where the air gets more breeze and tends to moderate more quickly. On the other side of the Cascade Mountains, for example, the air quality is much worse. For the remainder of the weekend, it should continue to improve around here, although I don't think the eastern slope of the Cascades will become good any time soon.

Pretty flowerpot at the Harbor

I love fall flowers, all bright colors, flowers that don't get appreciated as much when everything everywhere is in bloom. And I have seen some early color changes in some susceptible trees in the neighborhood. We usually have a riotous display, and I am hoping we will enjoy that again this year. You'll see some of the pictures, of course.

I am truly beginning to feel my age. My outdoor activities are becoming more challenging, and I have to remember to be glad for what I can still accomplish, considering that I am well ensconced into my eighties. But one thing I notice lately that is new, my joints seem to be wearing out. Both shoulders give me pain when I accidentally move with too much energy and they make some scary sounds as well. As long as I pay attention, I can manage pretty well. Both shoulders and one hip continue to remind me to be careful when working out. 

So, my joints are in the same ballpark as my eyes and hearing, but surprisingly, my knees are holding up just fine. All those braces I've carried for years might have made a difference, but at my age, I'm just going to continue to do what I can and hope for the best. Aging is, as they say, not for sissies. I am grateful for yoga classes and a good instructor, because I am able to stay upright and manage lunges and stretches and will continue to do so for a bit longer. I see where I am headed. It's a normal process, but I keep forgetting that I cannot continue to be as active as I used to be. The old body reminds me that it, and I, am getting older every day.

Today I'll be going to the corner coffee shop and picking up a couple of bagels with cream cheese to go with our usual Americano drinks. I like having lots of espresso with not too much liquid, and I add a little cream to soften the taste. John is not picking me up to make the journey to Fairhaven, as he decided to go dancing last night and knew he would want to stay in bed longer this morning, rather than getting up early and going to breakfast with me. Being such a creature of habit, I really miss seeing him. I hope he had a good time dancing and socializing with his old friends. 

As usual, I am looking for the good things in my life that I can appreciate and be grateful for. One of those wonderful things happens to be SG, who is (or was) sleeping next to me until just now when he got up to visit the bathroom. He'll be back, and will settle into his side of the bed and fall asleep again. He will be getting a bone marrow biopsy this week, to help his doctor decide what procedure to take in managing his lymphoma. Although he's been responding well to the oral cancer drug, there are some numbers that need to come up, and he might be needing to start "real" chemo treatment, but we don't know yet. Hoping for the best, and just super glad he's as well and vigorous as he is today. 

I am looking forward to the delightful weather we are now enjoying, other than the air quality of course, since the summer's heat seems to be gone, and it won't be back soon. Fall is my favorite season, and we're so lucky to be up here in the upper reaches of the country, and not down in the southern states where it's still full-on summer. I am hoping that wherever you are in the world right now, you are having a good time with dear friends and furry companions. We all deserve to be surrounded by joy and happiness, so let's work on that, okay? Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Now even they are gone

Taken yesterday, all healed up

The final post about my cancer surgery. There, between my shirt's collar and my old wrinkly neck, is the final scar left from the surgery on the 14th. Last week, I still had the remnants of the stitches, but just as predicted, they dissolved at  right around two weeks. I have finally stopped putting all that petroleum jelly on the wound, and just yesterday I realized that the stitches are indeed absorbed and gone, just like the cancer which caused the entire procedure to begin with. I've read enough information to feel very reassured that I had a good surgeon and a positive outcome. Next time (if there is one), I will not be so scared, just glad I have the ability to get some professional treatment. So I am putting the event into the annals of my personal history, adding it to my many adventures as a human on this distant planet, circling our beautiful Sun in our tiny little Solar System.

Our weather has moderated considerably from the hot days of the past weeks, and I think today we will reach the low to mid-seventies (F) as we celebrate the unofficial end of summer with Labor Day, coming Monday, September 1. It's also the anniversary of the day that my partner made his first skydive, in 1962, so very very long ago. My first jump was many years later, in 1991. In trying to find the actual date, I ended up re-read many earlier posts from this blog, and I was really impressed by how important these posts are to jog my memory, more than two decades later.

We forget a lot when time goes by, don't we? But there are some things and events that will never fade from memory. Now, I am in my early eighties, but twenty years ago I was jumping every weekend at Skydive Snohomish, making friends, sharing fun skydives with them, and cherishing every moment of those days. I am incredibly grateful for the ability to travel back in time through these posts, to remember, once again, how much fun we had during those unforgettable summer days.

And now I am putting my Trailblazer days behind me, right beside those skydiving adventures, while I learn to navigate the loss of my vision, the aging of these old bones of mine, and learning to appreciate my volunteer work at the Senior Center and the friends I am making through that activity.

One day I will no longer be fit enough to do the volunteer work I am currently doing, since it entails at least several thousand steps, keeping going for two solid hours, but for now I am managing quite well. My days are well defined, but still when I wake up in the morning, I need to check my phone to remind myself of the time and date. I keep my phone on the stand next to my bed, along with the charger for my watch and phone. I slip them on and then fix myself a cup of tea, which will soon pull from my bed when the whistle sounds.

That occurs every morning, no matter which day of the week it is, and here I sit writing my Sunday post. I usually get back to my laptop to read my selected comics. Sunday is my favorite day for this activity, because on Sunday I get to read more complete strips, including the Doonesbury one that is current for today, while all the rest of the week I am only reading old Doonesbury reruns from decades ago. It's interesting to notice how much I look forward to my weekly routines and feel sad when something happens to change things up. Definitely a creature of habit.

From my neighborhood

I also walk most mornings to the bus, a half-mile excursion, leaving the apartment at exactly 7:04 in order to catch the bus at 7:23 and end up at the terminus of the line. Once I have had my morning coffee at Adagio's and visited with whoever shows up (usually John is already there when I arrive). Some mornings Steve joins me, which changes with his work schedule. Right now he is in Hawaii visiting his mother for her 92nd birthday. He will return next week before his classes start again. And sometimes R.J. joins us, always a treat, but it's only an occasional one, since he's a musician and you know they keep late hours. 

Tomorrow is one of the days that I don't especially look forward to, since the buses aren't running, the coffee shop is closed, and the holiday disrueepts the rest of my daily activity. Senior Center is closed, no yoga class, but I will mostly likely get an early morning walk in, probably to Squalicum Beach and the new pier. The weather should be perfect.

As you can see, life is good for me in these closing days of summer. I have noticed some leaves already turning, reminding me of the riot of color to come. So, I have much to be grateful for, and I don't forget my virtual family, and your own posts that I read every day. I almost always work several of the NYT puzzles at some point during the day, and make sure I haven't missed any posts since I last checked.

With that, I will leave you with a Quote of the Day: (apropos of nothing)

The first rule of any technology used in a business is that automation applied to an efficient operation will magnify the efficiency. The second is that automation applied to an inefficient operation will magnify the inefficiency. —Bill Gates

Thinking of AI, of course. I hope you have a wonderful holiday and enjoy the company of your family, or friends, or animals, or books. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Just the stitches remain

Lily and me at the coffee shop, taken by Steve

Lily is such a good friend, and she wanted to share coffee yesterday morning with me and Steve, before the two of us (Steve and I) went on our usual Saturday morning walk. She always looks so pretty, and yesterday morning was no exception. Another breath of fresh air, and I was wearing my usual look. You can see under the scarf around my neck that the scar is coming along nicely, and I am very happy to see it beginning to get smaller and smaller. By this time next week the dissolving stitches should be gone, or almost so. All in all, the entire procedure has been minimal; my fear was the hardest part to deal with, especially the fear that the cancer had already spread, which it hadn't.

I learned online that dissolving stitches are usually absorbed in 7-14 days, and it's now been 10, so things are proceeding normally. I notice that my awareness of the wound is no longer constant, and that there are moments when I completely forget about having had the surgery. I like to think that now life can return to normal, but I am quickly forgetting what "normal" looks like in this scary political environment we all live in. The whole world feels like the future is truly uncertain, especially here in the US as the government has taken over the entire Washington, DC city, and is getting ready to do the same in Chicago. Are we ever going to have a safe and normal life again? I wonder.

Fortunately, we are in the waning stages of summer, as we approach the traditional end of the season with Labor Day coming on September 1, the first Monday in the month. So the three-day Labor Day weekend is coming up soon, like in a week. Our heat wave (which seems pretty tame when I look at the rest of the country) will pass after today. We got to 89 yesterday and I was quite uncomfortable when outside, but in our apartment, with the fans going, it was quite pleasant. It's the only time of the year when I actually wear shorts. Last week I ended up doing my usual routine (in shorts), and it was almost easy, just remembering to add a scarf when outdoors, and doing my Thursday and Friday volunteer work without a hitch.

The only thing that is not going as planned is that John called yesterday to cancel our usual Sunday morning breakfast. When it's this hot, he doesn't get to sleep until late, and he decided he would rather sleep in than meet me at 7:15am. I'll get my coffee fix at the local corner stand, which has excellent coffee these days. And Steve leaves next weekend for his annual trip to Hawaii for his mother's birthday, so he won't be around for a couple of weeks. Then he returns to begin the fall semester at the college, and things will return to a semblance of normal, at least I hope so.

I am so lucky to have such good friends, and lots to keep me occupied until I can get back to walking in cooler weather. It's funny that as I settle into my easy chair, it seems my body is encouraging me to go in that sedentary direction. My right shoulder keeps going out on me, as well as my right sacrum, both at times I don't expect. I still walk at least a couple of miles every day, as I have a half-mile trip to the bus, and the trip back home as well. It gives me the daily walk that I crave, even if there are body parts that would rather stay home. I think of my friend Linda in Seattle who is struggling to walk a couple of miles a day, but she does it for the same reason I do: we don't want to stop until we simply must.

I loaded a new book onto my Kindle, Why Buddhism is True, by Robert Wright. You know I have had an abiding interest in Buddhism, but I hadn't heard of this book until my guy suggested I might enjoy reading it. He has a hard copy that doesn't help me much these days, but this one has captured my attention and is just what I need to read at this point in my life. The author writes in a chatty style that I appreciate, rather than ponderous and preachy.

Written with the wit, clarity, and grace for which Wright is famous, Why Buddhism Is True lays the foundation for a spiritual life in a secular age and shows how, in a time of technological distraction and social division, we can save ourselves from ourselves, both as individuals and as a species.

This is from the link on Amazon that gives the potential buyer some idea of what the book is about. It's easy to read and I've read about 20% of the book already, and I've gotten some chuckles and rueful recognition of some of my erroneous beliefs. I highly recommend Wright's book, even though I still have much of it to read. With my eyesight failing, it has to be a good book for me to keep reading. I recently finished Barbara Kingsolver's book about Appalachia and her fictional character, Demon Copperhead and enjoyed it tremendously. I was sorry to have it end, but this new book has helped me to find a new path forward. Once I can no longer read books on my Kindle, I'll move to audiobooks.

So life is good, I'm finding my way through the summer months of heat and too much sun, and looking forward to my favorite time of the year: fall. Already I'm seeing some trees beginning to change colors, giving me a preview of what's to come. I do hope you will be finding some happiness and satisfaction in the days and weeks to come. It always helps to find pathways forward into enjoyment of our one precious life. I hope that the coming days will bring you satisfaction and happiness. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Cancer is gone

See that little pink spot on my neck?

Well, that little spot was the only thing still visible from the biopsy that was taken a few weeks ago. The wound healed nicely, and then this past Thursday I had the Mohs surgery on that spot to remove the Squamous cell carcinoma in my neck. The doctor knew just what she was doing. I went into the examination room, where she and her assistant draped me and then gave me dozens of little stingy shots of lidocaine, before she gave me my one and only tissue removal. I was surprised when I saw the cut, thinking it would be a "shave," but it was no such thing. She knew just what tissue was needed, and she drew a picture and then took the following section out of my neck:

She went pretty deep

It really does look like an eye to me. After having taken a look at the images from the biopsy, the surgeon cut deep in the middle (the "pupil", then then took some tissue from the "whites.") It was a painless procedure, once the lidocaine took effect, and then I went back into the main waiting room while the doctor sent the tissue to the lab. 

I had just gotten situated and started reading my book, when someone called my name and said I was done. The lab confirmed that the carcinoma had been successfully excised. I was flabbergasted that it had taken so little time. I then needed to have the wound sewn up, which took considerably longer than the removal. Two assistants worked to get more lidocaine in (which I couldn't feel), and then started up the sewing. Some tugging and yanking. With that much numbing juice running through my neck, it was also a painless procedure. Here is what my neck looks like now:

Stitches galore 

And now here I am, cancer free (the as far as I know anyway), and getting ready to go to breakfast with John in a short while. I went to the coffee shop on the bus yesterday, my first solo trip since the surgery, and I slept quite well last night, with only a little discomfort. But I realize that during the next two weeks I need to give special care to the area, keep it well lubricated with Vaseline, and take it easy. Don't let it get infected, and not try to drive, not wanting to break any of the dissolvable stitches by forgetting that I'm injured. Yes, I could do that easily.

There were a few people in the waiting room with me who were also patients; some it was easy to tell, like the woman with the big white bandage on her nose, but others had their cancers where you couldn't see. I feel very lucky to have had such a good surgeon and her team of assistants, but I am not wanting to go through this again any time soon. However, now that the mystery of how it's done is behind me, I wouldn't be nearly as frightened as I was before.

Once I get back from breakfast with John, my friend Michelle will take me for an afternoon walk somewhere, and we'll chat and feel life getting back to normal. The weather broke, and we had an inch of rain to green up the lawns (meaning more mowing), but it's pleasant and now that we are well into August, I hope we are not going to have any more hot spells.

I hope that the coming week will bring all of us some peace of mind, some good weather with nobody being flooded out, burned up from the heat, or any other uncomfortable situation. It's been a tough time in the history of the world, I'd venture to say, and I'm looking forward to some good news, now that I am cancer free!

August doings

Steve finishing up his Shave Ice treat

 Yesterday, Steve and I walked the entire length of Fairhaven's Boulevard Park, from the coffee shop to the Fairhaven Green and back. The red band in the above picture is Steve's own design on his pack, with no way for me to tone down the color to match the rest of the scenery. But never mind, it has made all the other colors fade into the background a little but doesn't change the bright and beautiful sunshine that we enjoyed. Summer is here and we will get a taste of what the rest of the country has been dealing with. We might even reach the mid-80s today, or by Monday or Tuesday (Gasp!). It's been lovely, actually having had such a mild and comfortable summer (so far anyway). While I have watched the temperatures in the rest of the country climb to levels I could not easily deal with, we have instead been forced to endure having to wear a jacket for most of the day, rather than tank tops and sandals. 

Since I last wrote in here, I received what I consider to be a rather sudden date for the Mohs surgery: this coming Thursday, August 14. It will be a day-long affair, with me and SG arriving at the surgery building at 8:30am, and we are told to expect a long day, possibly as long as eight hours, or maybe even more. This surgery will be performed by Joy Makdisi, the surgeon, on me and several other people, sort of a community of patients. All of us will have a segment of tissue removed from our cancer, and then while it is being evaluated in the lab, other people will have the same procedure done, making all of us in this together. One "shave" at a time, one after another. As soon as the cancer is deemed "gone" for each patient, they will sew the person up and send them on their way. I suspect most people will have several "shaves" before it's considered gone. You have to hope that you will be one of the lucky ones to be finished early.

After the procedure is done, the patient needs to go home and spend one to two weeks doing light movement and nothing too strenuous that might make the stitches come loose. Almost all forms of exercise are to be avoided, except for walking. I hope that several of my usual yoga routines will also be okay, but I will make sure before I try them on for size.

At this point, nobody knows how deep the cancer goes, or how wide the contaminated tissue might extend. By this time next week, however, I'll know so much more about the prognosis and how long before I can get back to living the rest of my life. I am very glad to know it's going to be removed soon. That doesn't mean I am not anxious about the procedure, but I don't have to wonder for weeks whether they can easily remove it or not.

Apparently this procedure is routine, and I keep running into people who have experienced it already. For some, it seems it was rather straightforward, but for others not so much. I won't know which category I'm in until I go through it, but I'm hoping for the best outcome. At first I thought I wouldn't even want to go through it, pretending that the cancer would just recede and quietly go away. But that's not how it works, so here I am getting ready for Thursday's procedure,  and realizing that I am not ready to let it all go just yet. Old age is no fun, but it's superior to the alternative.

I used to think of myself as fearless, but now I realize that's a myth I made up. I am not only frightened by what's happening to me, but I also know that this trajectory of diminishing abilities is my future. It's inevitable, and most of the time I am fine with it, but there are moments when I feel very sad that I have grown so old and am on my way to (dare I say it?) becoming... feeble. It's always a good feeling to wake after a good night's sleep and stride out the door feeling like a million bucks. I still have moments like that, but they are few and far between these days. 

Never mind. I will concentrate on all the good I experience every day: good people, good weather, and wonderful walks. During the five-mile walk yesterday, I enjoyed every moment of it. I don't have to look very far for gratitude.

When I'm grateful for all the blessings, it puts away all the stress about things not in my control. Things like long hours, aging, pollution, scandals... it helps me create perspective by just focusing on being grateful. Take that moment twice a day with yourself. —Darby Stanchfield

It's like taking vitamins, which may or may not make me healthy, but I do it because I believe they help. Taking the time to look up from my own little life and expand my horizons, it always helps. Reading a good book is also helpful, and I can still do that using the low vision setting on my Kindle. Reading right now I am halfway through Barbara Kingsolver's Pulitzer Prize winning book, Demon Copperhead. She writes about Damon (Demon to his friends) who grew up poor and without family in Appalachia. It's very absorbing and incredibly well written, as all her books are. I recommend it.

And the wonderful posts and comments I receive from my virtual family. There are people all over the world who write blogs about their lives, and it certainly gives me a different perspective on my own life. I am part of the community of bloggers who have been doing this for a long time, and as we change and age, we grow and learn from those who are journeying along with us. It's a good time to be alive, and I will take just a teeny moment out of my ruminations to experience gratitude and happy thoughts. Why not? Yes!

Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, dear friends. Be well.

Waiting for the referral

Me and Lily, taken by Steve

Yesterday, Lily joined Steve and me at the coffee shop. She was wanting to do some grocery shopping at the Farmers' Market and had some time before, which she spent with the two of us. She had her usual latte, while I enjoyed my double Americano, and Steve filled his own coffee cup holder with his usual straight coffee. Then we set out for a walk. It was shortened by Lily's visit, but it was worth it to have her tell some stories about her recent visit with her son, who came up from Guatemala to help celebrate her new status as an American citizen.

I have been more than a little rattled by last week's discovery that the thing on my neck is cancerous and needs to be removed as soon as possible. Then I found out when I tried to see if the referral had been accomplished, that no, it hasn't happened yet because my primary dermatologist was on vacation, had just returned and didn't get around to it yet. I do know that the referral should happen early next week, but I just don't understand why it is taking so long, I found that indeed I will probably see a young female doctor by the name of Joy Makdisi for the procedure. I think it's auspicious that someone named "Joy" will remove the growth. But shouldn't I be first in line?

The pathology report didn't inspire any confidence, either. This is what the report said:

FINAL DIAGNOSIS

SKIN, LEFT NECK, SHAVE:

Squamous cell carcinoma in situ, involving the deep and peripheral tissue edges.

Yikes! I don't like the sound of that. What does it mean that it's in the "deep and peripheral tissue edges"? How deep is deep? and if it's in the peripheral edges, does that mean there is more and that it might be hard to remove it all? I am sending myself into a tizzy, just considering what it all means. And of course, until the Mohs surgery is accomplished, nobody really knows the answers to these questions. I will be so happy to have a date to look forward to, hopefully sometime very soon. But I also realize this is not an optimal time for getting such surgeries scheduled, with so many people on vacation during the summer months. At least I will eventually have the surgery and my insurance should cover most of the costs. Even if I had to pay up front, it would be worth it just to get this taken care of.

In the meantime, I am not going to worry about the Canadian MacuMira eye treatment until this is cleared up. Both are going to be expensive, and I am willing to take care of it all myself, if necessary. I don't trust the insurance companies to be there when I need them. These days everything is complicated.

I guess this is what it means to be an elderly person in her (almost) mid-eighties. Her health not likely to become miraculously better in the future, as our bodies do wear down and out as we use them. I notice in the obituaries there are many people who die of "normal" causes and they are my age or even younger. As for my parents, neither of them lived as long as I already have, and genetics plays a role in our ability to live long and healthy lives. I wonder how long they might have lived if statins and better treatment for high blood pressure had been available to them when they were my age. Oh wait, they never made it into their eighties, or even their seventies! Daddy was 62, and Mama was 69 when they died, fourteen years apart.

Mama had a sibling, my Uncle Joe, who developed melanoma and died from it. He was a veteran and lived with my grandmother until he passed away. I remember that he had a mole on his earlobe; he didn't realize it was cancer, and it spread to his brain. He went into a coma for several weeks, but he did eventually come out of it. Interestingly, after he recovered, he then spoke with a thick German accent, and nobody even knew whether he had ever learned the language! He wasn't very old when he died, and he never married. I remember him still, and I even spent several months staying with Grandma and sleeping in his bed, long after he was gone. I remember Mama telling me he was exceptionally bright and accomplished many things during his life, but all of that is gone now. Nobody alive remembers. These days, I feel a kinship with him, as I try not to succumb to this skin cancer. My thoughts gravitate often to that spot on my neck and each time, I pray for guidance.

 No actual events in most people's lives that will be remembered for long after we die. There are a few in history, such as the ancient Greek philosophers, whose works are still read and revered, and other notable people who still give today's world much to think about. I still read and cherish the poetry of Emily Dickinson, who was in her fifties when she died, but she had written some of the most incredible poems by that time.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And reverie. The reverie alone will do, If bees are few.

So much of the feeling of her her poems lingers long after I have forgotten the words. Years ago I went on a five-day solo backpacking trip, and I spent many hours committing several of her poems to memory. They are still there to be accessed when I need them. I am so glad that I can still read well enough, using my low vision setting on my Kindle, to read and appreciate other great poets today.

Longevity of one's life is not a given, or even something to be desired. There are many who have managed to fulfill their mission here on Earth in a short time, and lay down with a sense of accomplishment, ready to move on to the next adventure. I hope to be one of them, but I won't know if I made it until I, too, am at the end of my life and look back on everything I went through. I also believe that this life is not the end of my consciousness, but it is only a belief. I do believe that love is timeless, and that as I surround myself in love and charity, I will end up having been glad to have been here.

My post is pretty much finished, and yes, John will be here before I know it, ready to whisk me off to breakfast. My dear virtual family are often in my thoughts these days, and you know that means you, too. I am incredibly grateful for you, and for your own long (or short) life. Be well until we meet again, dear friends.

Playing along with the Universe

Steve and me at the Bellingham street fair

Yesterday, Steve and I met at the coffee shop, as usual for a Saturday, and went for a nice leisurely walk in town. I'm not sure exactly what this fair is called, but most of the booths had used items for sale, and I almost bought myself a $20 shirt. I thought at first it was a jacket, but it had no pockets and was covered with delightful sparkly things and fit perfectly. Unfortunately for them, they also had a full-length mirror, and I could see it was not quite a "me" item. We had a good time walking around and examining all the wares, but neither of us bought anything after all.

In the background of the shot, you can see the Mt. Baker Theater sticking up, showing exactly where we are in town. It looks almost like a launchpad, but it's not as distant as it seems from the picture. We walked around town and walked to the Farmers' Market, which wasn't open yet, so we didn't get our usual treats there, either.

Nevertheless, it was a very busy week. I am so grateful to Steve for his weekly Saturday walk with me. Today we walked around the downtown neighborhood, not taking our usual trek to Fairhaven or to the harbor. We are so lucky to have such a wonderful cool atmosphere, with the temperature in the mid-sixties, while much of the country is sweltering in hot and humid weather. Still we have August and September to get  through, with the most heat in this area starting about now (but it's delightful) and ending sometime in mid- to late September. 

If you read my other blog, Eye on the Edge, you know that I am now finished with my hikes with the Trailblazers, because of my failing eyesight and my inability to leave my fellow hikers to their own devices, while I struggle to find my footing. Some of you have felt it wasn't necessary, but I myself know that I would never have left on my own, without a bit of a push from the organizers. It doesn't mean I won't continue to hike alone or with one or two others, but no on has to worry about being responsible for me any more. And I have already lined up a couple of friends who are looking forward to my joining them on their weekly walks. So that is taking care of itself.

I also got the results back from my last week's biopsy of a growth on my neck. That wasn't as good news: the growth that they removed is showing up as a squamous cell carcinoma, right on the left side of my neck. I of course looked it up and found that I will be needing to go through a more extensive excision of the lesion. Oh, great! I haven't heard from the doctor yet, but I will be happy when that cancerous growth is completely gone. At least it isn't melanoma, which I have in my family history. But as I said, I will be very glad when this particularly tough time in my life is behind me. It's one thing to look forward to, having this done and gone. Hopefully it has not spread from the original spot.

I did sign up for more volunteer work in the Senior Center kitchen. On Friday I joined the crew to administer salad dressing to those who showed up for the great salad that was offered for lunch. I had dozens of different varieties for them to choose from, and I noticed that the most popular are thousand island and ranch. Most people ask for an enormous amount of dressing, surprising me. My arms got very tired from squeezing dressing onto the salads from big plastic containers for two hours, but I wasn't needing to manage alone; there were three of us at different times. I learned that Fridays are usually salad days, and good looking ones, too: these had great plates full of shrimp and hard boiled eggs, along with lots of greens. 

I am not sure if John is going to come to take me to breakfast. He was missing all week, downed by some kind of stomach flu. He didn't come last week on Sunday, and then missed the entire week at the coffee shop, except for one day in the middle of the week. I think he came mostly so I wouldn't worry too much, I guess. He has had no appetite and feeling very tired. He didn't call me or let me know yet, but I hope that he is better and we will have our usual Fairhaven excursion. 

Yes, it is not an easy time right now, for any of us here on Planet Earth. I took a quick look at the news this morning and promptly stopped, since I can't face the disasters with equanimity when I am not feeling any better myself. Looking for the bright and happy moments is a struggle, but I am trying very hard to keep my spirits up. I had a good night's sleep with a full eight hours, a half-hour of deep restorative sleep, so I can't complain as I look forward to another sunny (but cool) day ahead. The high is projected to be 72F, just about right, don't you think?

Our beautiful Bellingham Bay

Just writing this post has given me a new perspective, and as I look at where I live, I cannot be too sad about the day ahead. I will definitely try to get a good walk in, and I will listen to some uplifting songs and keep on looking ahead to better days, which will return, I am convinced. 

Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.