Monthly Archives: August 2022

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lung pizazz

The tent in the center is mine. I took this two days ago as soon as I had it set up. The big deal is that pulmonary rehabilitation is WORKING.

My friend B from the east coast invited me to hike with him and two other friends. They were going up the Hoh River trail. The initial hike was five miles and then camp. They will go up to Glacier Meadows.

I looked the hike over. The first five miles starts at around 500 feet and stays near the river and fairly level. I bought a pass for the campsite and loaded my pack. I took the pack to pulmonary rehab on Monday and carried it on the treadmill. I went for 25 minutes at 3mph, loaded. My heart rate went to 110 (normal at rest is 60 to 100, though mostly cardiologists don’t care if it’s below 60 unless bad symptoms or heart block) and above, but I held my oxygen sats. I decided I could GO! We met in Port Angeles and then drove up. We didn’t start hiking until 3:30pm but got to the campsite, ate and set up tents.

The next day I hiked back alone. A couple coming in stopped me and said, “There is a bear. It went up a tree when we saw it.” The next trio said that the bear was on the ground and seemed undisturbed. I had my whistle out and kept hiking, a little cautious. I did not see a bear.

As I reached the parking lot, I reread the signs. “Cougar area, hiking alone not recommended.” Oh. Well, but I really was rarely alone. I counted the people hiking up and there were 147 in that 5 mile stretch. Some out for day hikes, some with packs headed to Glacier Meadows or beyond, some with almost no equipment.

Anyhow, I am so delighted that my lungs have recovered enough to hike! I don’t think they are ready for altitude and the climb to Glacier Meadows. Maybe by next summer. Hooray for lung pizazz!

https://www.nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/hoh-river-trail.htm

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pizazz!

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mermaid vacation

Do mermaids go on vacation? I think they would come up rivers and explore. Lie around on the banks and talk about the ocean and whales and fish and annoying tourist boats.

I took this yesterday on the Hoh River.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: mermaid.

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On pants and pronouns

My pronouns are now per and pers. And that’s what I am going to call you and you and you over there too. Because I don’t care what is in your pants unless I have personal interest (rare and unlikely) or unless I am working as a physician. Per and pers are short for person. Generic. Nongendered because I don’t care. I suppose we could use Pee and Pees for People, which would amuse small children and immature adults (which includes me).

As a physician I need to know if someone is XX, XY, XO, XYY, or any of the other variations because it affects health. I need to know if the XX is of childbearing age or before that or after that. I need to know if the testes are undescended or have been removed because of prostate cancer. But otherwise I don’t need to know and I don’t care what is in your pants.

Get over gender. Everyone can wear kilts or carhartts or makeup or glitter or boots or toe cleavage sandals (ok, the five inch heels are really bad for your feet) and I don’t care. The first time I met my future husband was in a contra dance line where the people coming up the line were upset or rattled. I wondered why and there he was, wearing his mother’s wrap around lavender flowered skirt and dancing the “male” part. Now the parts are often called “lead” and “follow” because the callers don’t care what is in the dancer’s pants either.

When I saw my future husband in a wrap around lavender skirt, it was not love at first sight. What I thought was, “Well, that is not your routine Beltway Bandit. Bet he’s not an attorney.” This was Washington, DC in 1985 or 6 and the place was crawling with attorneys. I was correct. He is not an attorney. I thought, well, at least he’d be interesting to talk to and I found the consternation in the contra dance line amusing.

I did not talk to him that night. The next time I ran into him was at a square dance at the Washington Cathedral Nunnery. (You now may be wondering if this is true. It is.) He was wearing pants. After the square ended, I said, “You look different from a week ago.” He laughed. “The woman I am here with hates it when I wear skirts,” and he promptly invited me out. Ok.

Marge Piercy published Woman on the Edge of Time back in 1976. The pronouns in one of the two futures were per and pers. I am fine with that and I am not fine with having every single person pick their own pronouns. If we are going to pick our own pronouns, I am going to be “Mother Superior”, because I think it is stupid. Make it generic and non-gendered and I have no issue with generic. I don’t care what is in people’s pants or shirts or whatever, nor do I care what gender they are born nor their present identification nor their future plans. Except, as I said, if I am romantically interested or if I am working as a physician.

And since I love words and wordplay, my reply to the next query about my pronouns will be in a very sexy voice. “My pronouns are puuuurrrr and puuurrrrrs.”

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crack

even stone can crack
under great pressure
under great heat
under great force
under water

water?

yes, water
water wearing the surface
water rolling the rocks against each other
water wearing the cliffs and the trees fall down

even stone can crack
under great pressure
under great heat
under great force
under water

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crack.

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the elk remember

I am trying not to curse you
for hurting my small child AGAIN
she doesn’t deserve that, how can you?
hasn’t she been hurt enough?

I am trying not to curse you
I am a scientist not a witch
witches curse people, I won’t do that
at least, I try not, try not

I can see your choices though
the map laid before you: you must choose
the path to take. A serious decision
that will take some honest work.

I can see your choices: it’s not a curse
it’s not my fault. It’s up to you, your choice
Grief again makes me hurt and angry
but I don’t curse you, I try not

I don’t know when it is too late to choose
you have refused the path over and over
but I am not part of it any more, not angry,
sad. The choice is yours alone and always was

I believe it is never too late to choose the path
and at the same time some people never do
my sister, dying, saying to me alone: “I’m bad.”
Me saying “No.” My sister: “I’m sorry.”

I don’t want to do that again, do you hear me?
If you choose not to change, stay on this path
I suppose I would relent at the end
But I don’t want to. Do you hear me?

I am trying not to curse you
for hurting my small child AGAIN
she doesn’t deserve that, how can you?
hasn’t she been hurt enough?

but there are the elk
I spoke to them once and they answered
to my surprise and yours. I can’t help it if
the elk remember