Going Forth From the Fourth!

Survived!

 Thank goodness, we're through the inferno and into the regular smoke season (currently clear, but the wildfires on the other side of the Cascades are piling up so... we'll see)!

We celebrated the 4th by heavily watering our lawn (or really, by me asking Andrew to after I forgot about it and had gone to bed) and removing ourselves to our individual bunkers for a night full of room shattering BOOOOOOOMS that stretched well into the early morning. I'm glad we did water the lawn, because not everywhere on our street fared as well... 

Andrew and several other neighbors ran out to put out this curbside fire, one that luckily happened while people were still relatively awake. 

Oh yes, this happened on almost the same street corner where somebody got shot two weeks ago at 2 a.m.. So, yeah, feeling like city living is really working out awesome!

Oh we're not done, though: the next night, the same wild barrage of BOOOOMS went off all night and Allan and I got to watch another neighbor put out another fire in the median just a half block down from the previous one. This was large bonfire level. The neighbor from the corner made several runs with a bucket until the fire was put out. The fire trucks eventualy showed up to see the rubble, checked some stuff and then left. Luckily it did not spread to the rest of the median, which has foliage that plenty of birds and wildlife use as home. Though it definitely would've looked pretty badass to have that entire corridor in flames... missed opportunities #nextyear

I am so fucking over it. In addition to all the casual arson, the neighborhood was basically just a war zone for about three days afterwards. Apparently, this anarchy was in full force all about, as fires about tripled that evening and hospital admissions were (naturally) up by at least as much. 

It's been bad before, but this year was exceptional (all around West Seattle and White Center from what I'm hearing). I'm so tired of fireworks. It is absurd to me that they are legal and so popular. They are dangerous, loud, and fuck up the environment, and yet every year assholes go out and start fires because it's their god given right as Americans (to ignore local ordinances because the police never bother to enforce the ban).

I propose a new fire brigade be formed for the first two weeks of July. It will consist of concerned citizens carrying fire hoses and if they see somebody setting off fireworks, they and all their fireworks get shot with a fucking fire hose. Because this be bullshit, my brothers and sister in Christmas. 

Not super thrilled with people right now. 

 But luckily our yard still looks lovely. 

Andrew likes to talk about the dream he had when we moved into this house. One in which we would sit idly in our beautiful yard and eat BBQ on our little patio. 

This never came to fruition. I don't really eat much BBQ, being outdoors to eat usually means an allergy attack, and the front of the house usually gets pretty warm for sitting. The outdoor patio table has been mostly repurposed as a "squirrel and bird overflow feeding" platform, and the chairs kind of hang out by the door in the shade. 

The backyard is an even less palatable candidate for lolling shenanigans, largely because it directly faces an alley that often is piled with trash. But also because the afternoon sun is exceptionally scorching during the summer months. Oh, add to this that Allan - until late - has considered herself an "indoor child" and my strong aversion to grass for multiple reasons. 

But recently, the dream has come true a bit more. In a bit of a different way. 

Last year, I decided that pigeons were cool and I wanted to read some things about them. This evolved into learning about CORVIDS and we never turned back from there. 

 After a few months of befriending the local crows, Allan and I attempted to bring some to our yard, by leaving out peanuts. This did not really appeal to the crows immediately enough. Eventually the squirrels figured it out and the crows did not want to fight with them. 

But feeding one kind of bird is - of course - a gateway drug. 

Shortly after that, we got out first feeder! And that has changed a bit of everything. 

Allan and I went full scale on the ornithology spin, and our yard became a sanctuary for local flora and fauna. 

And suddenly, it's become a whole lot more interesting all around. Albeit in a little bit different way. 

Much of the appreciation comes from looking out various windows at the bird shenanigans. 

But multiple days of heavy yardwork has manifested an expected excitement about the yard itself and all the plants and pollinators we've yielded. 

The indoor child not only wants to go on regular "bae walks" (to visit the crows and every other bird out and about), but she also enjoys hanging out in the backyard. While we don't have adequate seating exactly, the retaining wall between our property and the neighbor's yard is comfortably in a bit of shade and relatively decent to sit on. 

Not gonna lie, my allergies are going bonkers from all the time outside, but at least it's pretty. 

We've had opportunity to share, even. 

Not so funny story. Last year my mom was diagnosed with Stage One oral cancer. They rushed her into surgery and followed it up with a grueling round of radiation therapy (does not sound fun, would not recommend for kicks). She survived with some lingering side effects like dry mouth and some awkwardness with eating. Worth it, but a bit of an ordeal. 

This year, her partner David was diagnosed the same cancer. Or sort of. It's a bit more mysterious. They found a single cell carcinoma on his lymph node. Apparently, the cancer can't just start there, so the primary is somewhere else. But just like Waldo, it's been tricky to locate. After two CTs and a PET scan, plus a variety of other physical exams, nobody could figure out where the original cancer is! There is a small chance that the body actually just dealt with it. I guess that happens, but obviously everyone wants to be sure. 

They were both HPV negative on initial testing, so it was a real mystery how they would both end up with the same cancer, especially given my mom has none of the other risk factors. It sounds like there are HPV viruses that don't get tested for, because they're rare and this apparently was the factor. Maybe

So this week he went in for some kind of robotic surgery to find the damned thing.

My mom waited in a waiting room for about six or seven hours, getting the occasional "yep still in surgery" updates over a few hours. He survived. The doctor had moved on to the next patient. And all she knew as of last night was that they'd removed both of his tonsils and things looked fine. 

He was not in a particularly sociable mood after waking up, so she was given the all clear to come out our way and spend the first Gramma Pam afternoon with us at our house since before her surgery! 

Which is of course mixed because the reason she's down here kind of sucks, but it was nice to spend some time together under any circumstances. 

We spent a lot of time out in the yard, with Allan proudly showing off every last leaf and bug. Then we watched the world cup. 

Today, hopefully, there will be a more substantive update, but no promises in the medical field. 

And, for me? 

More world cup! But also, just reveling in the heightened expectation that i might actually be able to go to bed without the room being bombed (instead Allan will just come in with an armful of books and tell me about the bunnies she's reading about until 2 a.m. but at least that's more peaceful overall!)