It is what it is

My life is what my life is, and this time of year there is nothing to it but to wait for the seasons to change. I pulled one of the two boats we had in the water today. I'll keep watch on the water level. So far, it's raining enough to maintain things, but that's got to end soon. There is one thing going in my life right now that I'm rather thrilled about. I'm losing weight for the first time in a long time and I feel great - greater by the day.

I consider my body like unto a machine. A well-cared-for machine operates well and lasts long. This 'machine' however has been overloaded for a long time, and we all know that can lead to problems. My problems were sore feet, a stiff back and poor sleep. Poor sleep can also lead to problems but to date, I'd managed to avoid them.

Now that I'm shedding all those extra pounds, my feet aren't sore anymore and I'm sleeping tons better. My back is still stiff first thing in the morning, but then I'm no spring chicken anymore either, a few aches and pains are to be expected when you reach my age. My age - well back in June I felt about 80. What did I know what 50something was supposed to feel like?  My weight gain had been gradual over the last 30 years, and over the last five or so it would fluctuate from five to ten pounds as I went from winter's quiet to summer's work and back again. That didn't mean that I still didn't end up a couple pounds heavier at the end of it all.

July 24 was the last day of my first session with the hcg drops and I had lost 30 pounds over the 40 days previous, ending at 173 pounds. No longer did I feel like I was an 80 year old grandmother badly in need of retirement. Now I felt like, heck, I say I felt ten years younger, but I'm thinking I felt better than that - younger - nearly like a kid again - haha - well almost.

There is a six week break between sessions and during that time I continued to lose the weight albeit at a slower rate. I was at 160 pounds when I started my second session ten days ago and already I've shed over five pounds. It's been a long time since there has been a 5 as the middle number of my weight.

My husband keeps saying little things like, "There's a lap between your knees and your belly." and "I can feel some ribs now." Course that's not all he says, but that's all I'm willing to put on here. hahaha No I'm not getting bony. It's just that it's been a long time since ribs and hip bones have been findable without some digging.

My goal is somewhere in the 130+ range, hopefully less than 140 pounds. It's where I was way back when. It looks like I just might get there. This old 'machine' is more than ready to unload all this extra weight. It's certainly not doing me any good.

The biggest question I get is, "How do you deal with eating only 500 calories?" I don't understand calories and I don't count them. Heck, it would take me an hour just to weigh or measure what I eat to figure it out and I am too lazy to put that much effort into what I eat, plus no one ever counts all the extra calories that are floating around in your body already - that's the fat I'm talking about - that unwanted extra weight. These drops tell you body that they count too. So what if I only consume only 500 calories or so, I've got plenty to spare. I just don't eat what the diet says I should avoid and gestimate how much I am eating. It's working so who am I to complain. The people who have been, or are on, this diet have gone to great lengths to invent recipes to satisfy all you cooks out there but I haven't tried them. They look and sound really great. You could probably feed your whole family from these dishes and you'd all eat better. After all, you don't really need oil or sugar. I'll email a list of those recipes to anyone who wants to try some. Heck, I'll send anyone the whole pdf and you can read up on the study if you like.

Calling 9-1-1

9-1-1 It used to be just a phone number for emergencies. Now, it has a whole new meaning. Even ten years later, it still shudders my nerves when I hear something related to 911 or 9/11. I and my family are very far removed from the horrendous happenings in New York, so I know no one there; I'm not even sure I know someone involved second hand - someone who had family for personal friends there. A selfish part of me wants to say 'get over it and move on', but those words never make it out. I'll never say them, not ever. This whole world was totally rocked by this one senseless act; we will never get over it. We won't even get over it when everyone responsible has been properly punished for the crime, not even when it has become ancient history. Look at Pearl Harbor. I don't know the numbers and I'm not going to look them up, but the attack on Pearl Harbor had much the same affect around the world. Sure, there was a war going on and we were taking a back seat at the time, but the senseless loss of life was much the same, and it had the same affect then as the 9/11 attack did ten years ago. It brought us, fully enraged, into the war.

Now, ten years later, maybe some of the rage has worn off. The enemy, the terrorists, are far harder to find. They don't wear the uniform of the enemy. They are hard to see. They lie to get away in order to blow themselves up in the company of some other innocents in a market square or in a hotel lobby. They get their children to do things no child should be thinking of. And it is all in the name of their God or their Prophet. Maybe I'm getting this all wrong, but how can any religion, any teacher of said religion, teach that it is the greatest heavenly task to kill people who don't believe the same things? Many say it's not the religion that teaches this. I'll have to take their word for it. I've never read the Koran. I've never read the Bible either, and yet so many crimes have been committed for that too. That's why I'm scarcely a Christian. I guess that makes me an atheist.

I do know that some peoples think differently than I do, and I don't mean they have different ideas, I mean their brains operate differently. Have you ever read a book written by a Chinese person? Very complicated, and not such an easy train of logic to follow. I can only think that these terrorists think differently too. It just boggles me though. Surely, no matter where you are or how you grew up, wrong is still wrong. Killing innocent people is wrong. How can it be otherwise?

They say we aren't innocent though, but I can't see the crime. That America is predominantly Christian can't be the crime, surely. Ah me, I totally fail to grasp it all, and I can only say, 'we will never forget' and I, for one, will never forgive.

My hcg Diet

One day my girlfriend, Sandy, sent me an email telling me all about this wonderful stuff she found. She was so sick and so disheartened by it all – she figured she’d be dead in another ten years, if not sooner. But now, as if by a miracle, after hundreds of trips to different doctors, it was all going away, and along with it about a pound a day of fat. A POUND! That’s a whole box of butter just being chucked out every day!

I was totally thrilled for her; her updates were just amazing. Finally, something had been found that made the fat go away without us having to start training for the Olympics or something of the sort. I mean, have you watched Biggest Loser? Personally, I don’t like that show, though perhaps those people need that kind of abusive discipline. I don’t.

I have always considered myself a strong person for a woman. I mean, read my blog. I lift and carry. I walk. Okay, so I don’t do it every day, but still. During the summer I work at a fishing lodge and I probably end up walking well over a mile if not miles every day, and that’s not counting the mile I walk to and from the boat every day in order to go to work. During the winter it’s a different story. Since I’m not working at the lodge, I spend a lot of my time sitting in front of the computer. But I still go out and split wood nearly every day and sometimes twice a day.

I also consider myself healthy. I’ll take aspirin for some aches and pains now and then but I have no other medications to take, not counting the inhaler I use for my bronchitis – one little inhaler has been known to last me up to four years, so even my bronchitis isn’t much of a nuisance.

Of late though, I’ve been feeling really quite old. I love where I live but living in the wilderness of Alaska is not for the old and infirm. I’ve always known that the day would come when we would have to move to town. I mean, if you can’t do the chores necessary to get along, the only alternative is to hire someone to do them for you or move to where life is a little easier.

Well, after hearing of Sandy’s success, I simply had to give this hcg diet a try. I was over 200 pounds now and I’ve been toying with the idea of quitting my job – it was all I could do to make it through an entire day. My feet hurt. My back hurt. I was tired all the time.

At work, I keep the cabins clean, which involves making or changing beds every day and some of those beds are the upper bunks – kids always choose the upper bunk. And since I hate the idea of carting a mop and bucket around, cleaning the bathroom floors was a hands-and-knees job.

When I first started working here there were ten cabins, half of which had a bathroom. Also on my cleaning every day list was the bathhouse which was two bathrooms, each with two sinks and two showers, and the floors here too. There was also a third bathroom but that was just a toilet. Then there were also four outhouses to maintain. When I first started working here, I was able to make it through all of that by noon most days, and then my afternoons were filled with maintaining the flowers and berry beds as well as the assorted trees and bushes. Thank goodness I didn’t have to mow too.

Since I’ve worked here, one bathroom was added to a cabin. In the last couple years, two cabins were taken out of the guest cabin list – a relief for me though they were seldom used anymore.

Believe me, taking care of the bathhouse, eight cabins and the yard is a big job and I was feeling like I wasn’t doing it the way I should. My boss gives me a raise every year and every year I was going out of my way to take short cuts. I felt guilty about it too, hence my thoughts of quitting.

Regardless of my work or my life here, I have been looking for some way to lose all this extra lard I’ve accumulated over the last 30some years. I did the math; on the average I gained at least two pounds a year.

I always check out the diet section at the store when I go to town – they all say ‘exercise and eat right and take this wonderful pill, and watch the pounds melt away’. ha ha ha I even tried a couple. So much for that theory.

Last year I ordered the drops from Sandy, only they didn’t get here before I was grounded to home. I did finally get them in February only to discover that both bottles had broken in shipment – I was so bummed. So as soon as planes were flying again, I sent her another check. I was going to try this stuff. I was desperate (though likely not so desperate as Sandy was when she started).

She told me she felt great, that she had energy again, that all her ailments were simply melting away, but I just thought it was due to weight going away. I had no idea.

I learned that starches are supposed to convert to sugar, which is where your energy is supposed to come from, but too much and it converts to fat, supposedly to be broken down into sugar at need at a later time. However, in some people that fat never breaks down; it just keeps building up and you have to eat more to get the energy you need, only too much of it is converted to this fat rather than the energy – a vicious circle.

Hcg breaks that circle. It tells your body it can burn this fat now, all you need. The fat converts to the sugar, which gives you energy. And oh my God the energy! I’m not talking about something like a caffeine buzz either, just energy, the energy you need to do whatever you are doing. Come the end of the day, I’m tired. I’m 55 years old; I’m entitled to be tired after a long day, and I love taking naps in the afternoon when I get the chance.

No longer do I look at the clock and think, ‘I’ve worked 2 hours, let me take an aspirin so I can make it to lunch so I can sit down for a while.’ And then in the afternoon I say, ‘I’ve done this flowerbed, do I have to do the next one or can it wait until tomorrow? Maybe I’ll go find some bushes to trim or some rocks to pick up, then maybe I’ll go home early.’ Nope – the other day I did all the flower and herb beds in one day. I had blisters on my hand from it, but job done and I was proud of my accomplishment. I’m back to working like I used to – getting the bathhouse, all the cabins and outhouses done lickety-split and polishing the gardens like they haven’t been for a while. Yeah, I keep them weed free and always have but there’s a difference now.

I’m carting around 30 less pounds of lard and that’s part of it, but my feet don’t hurt any more and my back doesn’t hurt any more. I’m not watching the clock any more. Though this summer I’m not eating lunch with the crew. I’ll pass through and grab an apple or banana or whatever’s available within my diet and that’s it, I’m off again.

When I first started working I was proud of the fact that few of the younger people could keep up with me, and since I was always all over the place, finding me was usually rather hard. I’m that way again and it’s wonderful.

My son asked me when we were moving to town. Like I said before, I knew the day would come. I told him, now that I feel 10 years younger, it’ll be a while. I like living here and I want to stay here as long as I can. Sure, we’ll spend some time in town each winter (maybe), but frankly I’d much rather stay out here.

With this session, I almost reached 170 pounds. My next session starts in September. I won’t be working then, so maybe the pounds won’t come off as easily – we’ll see; there’s still the walk to the boat dock I can take every day and that’ll help. Maybe I’ll put in a snowshoe trail around the parameter of the property – now that’s an idea – we’ve a 20 acre plot, rectangular in shape – anyone care to do the math for me? How far is that?

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The Frightening Evolution of Birds

As a cat sees it.

A girlfriend gave me a kitten some years ago when we lived in a little 10' by 12' cabin. It had two windows and a door, a tiny shelf for a kitchen and some shelves. The rest of the space, what we didn't need for turning around in, was filled with the wood stove. During the course of the winter, little tweety birds fluttered around outside our front window. It was cold, so I took to sprinkling a bit of corn flower on the outside windowsill. It served to bring the tiny birds a lot closer, and our kitten would sit on the table, which was under that window, and avidly watch those little birds, chattering away with excitement.

As spring wore on, the birds got a little bigger, and as it got warmer, the kitten, named Ishtar, got to play outside a little. She discovered camp-robbers, little gray birds maybe two or three times the size of the little tweety birds, which had moved on.

Some time later, we were visited by a flock of magpies, in fact, one of them drew little Ishtar way up into a tree, but she made it down.

In the continued evolution of things that go fluttering in Ishtar's world, a raven stopped by for a visit. Since he was still around a second day, I tied a chicken neck to a tree branch so it hung about two feet from the ground. Too far up for the bird to reach while standing. He was really rather funny to watch as he tried to get it. Ishtar wasn't brave enough to go after this one so she stayed on the table and chattered at it through the window.

A few days later, the god who makes all things grow bigger simply got way out of hand. Ishtar was sitting at the window, anxiously awaiting any fluttering creature the great outside had to offer, when suddenly an otter (bush plane) flew low over the house in preparation for landing somewhere behind us. That was just too much. I swear you never saw a cat move faster. She was off the table and across the floor, under the kitchen shelf as far behind whatever was there as she could get.

With a little encouragement, she came out of there, but things that go flutter outside the window weren't so interesting anymore.

Cold Shower

The very first year I worked out on the river, the lodge I worked at had two separate buildings for the camp bathrooms. One of them also housed the washer and dryer, giving me reason to be in the building. One day, a man came in, his arms full with his change of clothes and assorted toiletries, obviously intent on taking a shower.

I told the man, the propane was out and that he should just go to the other building. It wasn't as if they were clear across the camp from each other. If the buildings had been a couple feet closer, they would have shared a corner.

"Oh no," he says. "I don't mind a cold shower."

"The water's real cold here," I warned him. I did. The water in the river comes directly from a glacier and I doubt it ever gets warmer than 40 degrees Fahrenheit. And since the water for the shower houses comes from a well that's not really all that far from the river. I know a glass of cold water from the tap is every bit as cold as a glass of water from the frig, maybe even poured over ice-cubes - refreshingly cold, but too cold for a shower.

Needless to say, the guy didn't spend much time trying to take a cold shower. He came back out and said, "That water's cold!!!"

All I could say is, "I told you so."

Yard Work

Yep, most of the snow is gone and a healthy chunk of the yard is dry enough to rake, so guess what I did for a couple hours this afternoon. I went outside and did a little raking. This time of year is kinda risky for me, but the spruce trees aren't dusting the countryside yet and last year's dust didn't get to me either. Allergies are a real pain, but they only last for a little while, thank god. The last thing I need is to start sneezing and coughing cause that only aggravates my bronchitis, not that it's all that bad but it is annoying.

Working in the yard, though, reminded me that I haven't told you about the otter who camped out under out house a couple falls ago. I was out cleaning up the yard and burning trash, and occasionally throwing a stick for the dog when she went charging off into the tall grass off back by my ex-garden. I didn't see anything so whatever it was was smaller than a bear and definitely smaller than a moose. I didn't even see the tall grass waving except where the dog was so it was smaller than she was. I wasn't worried until she yelped. She's never yelped. She might growl. Once in a while she'll bark, but she's never yelped. I dropped what I was doing and called her back into the yard. She's always been good at coming when she was called, but she didn't want to this time. When she did come, she had blood on her nose.

I hustled her into the house before taking the time to look at the damage. She now has a scar across the top of her nose about an inch long and it healed up quickly.

The next day, I kept an eye peeled for our mysterious visitor. I also kept an eye on the dog. Just in case our visitor was still hanging around somewhere. No, I wasn't going to go beating through six-foot grass and weeds to look for something that might be hurt and pissed.

As it turns out, Gizmo wasn't interested in going off into the tall grass anymore. In fact she wasn't all that interested in chasing sticks either. She kept an eye under the house but I didn't really notice it at the time; she was just hanging around the house really close.

That night, Don kept hearing things like a far-away motor, but there was no boat traffic anymore, the season was over. If anyone was running around in a boat, it wouldn't be big enough for us to hear from here. Plus it was late in the evening. I went outside to listen, but didn't hear anything. This happened a couple more times.

The next day, I heard it, and I heard it from outside. Something was under the house. Of course, since I'd told Gizmo 'no' it became 'mine' and therefore off limits and okay to be in the yard. She was just keeping an eye on it. Mind you, I still didn't know what it was, but I now knew where it was. I, very carefully, went under the house to try to see what it was. Whatever it was, it was small cause it could hide among all the stuff under there.

I suppose I got to within a couple feet of it, but I never got a very good look at it - a tail here - a cheek there - and then it was hiding behind something else. Why was an otter camping out under our house? Maybe it was hurt from the fight with Gizmo, but the little pieces and parts that I could see didn't seem any worse for the wear. I could see it well enough to tell that it was a full grown otter. Maybe it would get a little bigger, maybe it was a female. I couldn't tell.

I was trying to burn some fish that was too mushy to can, so I decided to rescue it from the fire and give it to our guest, maybe he was just a little messed up from the fight and was too weak to hunt. Maybe I could entice him out far enough so I could tell. No luck there.

It snowed that night, three or four inches. When I went to see about our guest, he wasn't there, neither was the fish, so he went away full. I found his tracks in the new snow heading out the back of the house and off through the garden, on to wherever he'd been going in the first place.

That was the extent of the visit. I never saw it again. I haven't seen too many otters this far from the water. There used to be a family we'd see at least once a year down by the boats - no idea where they stay.

I saw one once years ago running through the edge of our yard during winter. It was really rather comical to watch as it gamboled along with the occasional slide mixed in.

April Showers Bring...

I stepped outside my door yesterday morning and realized that there was a sizable spot of bare ground out there, off to the side of the main trail to the steps. In front of the steps there's still an inch or two of ice - don't worry, it's not slippery, it's too pitted to be slippery.

Now that's not the first bare ground to show up; the first one was under the exhaust of the generator, which sits on top of the doghouse. Putting it there for the winter is tons easier than trying to keep a hole dug out for it on the ground, and the exhaust keeps the snow 'down wind' melted to a distance of roughly three or four feet and the top of the doghouse is easy to scrape off.

Back to the real melted spot. So far it is the only spot of bear ground that I know of. I'm sure there are more. Places like under the big spruce trees always have less snow and at the rate of melt I'm sure the bare ground around those trees is growing daily. I also saw that the four-wheeler no longer has snow on top of it, but the snow around it is still every bit as deep as the four-wheeler is tall - around waist deep there, give or take a few inches.

Other trails: the trail down to the fuel drums now looks like a trail in new snow, if you ignore the dirt darkening the snow in that trail. You see, the new snowfall we had a little while ago is still white, but where it was disturbed the dirt underneath was found by the sun that has been shining for weeks nice and warm every day. The darkness of the dirt absorbs the sun's heat and melts the snow faster than the white of new snow, so since the trail down to the fuel drums is pointed primarily in the same direction as rays of the at it's hottest, it had become a bit of a trench. The trail to the outhouse or the freezer are both sideways to that source of heat and so are melting sideways. The said dirt, visible in all trails, melts the snow to the side, each fleck of dirt moving to the north a tiny bit every day, thus creating a false trail, so to speak. Now, if I were to walk where the trail appears like it should be, I would quickly be wading in snow that is still more than knee deep. However, walking on the packed part of the trail isn't easy. It too has been 'burned' sideways by the angle of the sun's rays. Yeah, it's interesting walking around out there these days.

Last night, it started raining, and it is raining still, now the clock around. I know 'rain' means many different thing to different people. If you live in Texas, rain comes down in buckets and can cause flash floods, an interesting detail found only occasionally in western novels. Here such a goose-drowner happens only once in a great while. Our normal rain is sure to get a stroller wet, and driving an open boat in the rain is highly unpleasant but all in all, it's rather pleasant if you don't have to be out in it.

The rain, nice as it might be, does complicate my problem with walking around outside. Since it didn't freeze last night, and likely won't again tonight, getting to the fuel drums for my little can of gas might be interesting. I may have to plan on wet feet tomorrow morning. Then again, it may work out better than I think it will. I like little surprises like that.

Now that the rains are falling and the nights aren't freezing, one more step towards spring has been covered. That's not to say there won't be more freezing nights but they are numbered I'm sure. Any time now I'll be seeing small flecks of green and I'm not talking about the perma-green trees.