Thursday, January 31, 2019
Monday, January 28, 2019
Pizza and memories
My eldest daughter and family had delivery pizza the other day, I had a slice, but couldn't stop remembering Tuscany and the pizza there.
And the surrounding environs.
A olive grove at sunset
And the 'manhattan' of Tuscany, named for it's towers, Emily and I on the outskirts.
Italy, driving, etc
One thing that struck me about driving in Europe was how different the roads and drivers were, from one country to the next. In Germany there is the autobahn, and while some of it does have somewhat unlimited speed limits, probably a quarter or more has similar speed limits to our interstate system. I found driving on the autobahn quite easy; the condition of the road is excellent, a lot better than ours. I got used to driving 110 mph quickly, and by no means was I the fastest car on the road. Once out of Germany, things change....the speed limit is usually similar to ours, and in Italy the road conditions are variable. The only place I found driving difficult was the UK. One, our navigation system didn't have a UK disk, so it was maps...Emily with the map and me getting honked at for being on the wrong side of the road after a turn. I even enjoyed driving in Rome, once I got used to the concept it was anarchy: anything goes.
I was stopped once while there, in Bad Kissingen, for talking on a cell phone. A big no-no in Germany, and usually gets you a 100 euro fine and a point off your drivers license. I had two police come up to me, and after we established I had no German language skills to speak of, there was much discussion about why I shouldn't have been on a phone. My Montana drivers license caused some interest, and the conversation turned to fishing and hunting. I got off with a warning, which my German friends found astonishing.
Below are some pictures that I took while there, Rome, Florence, Austria, and other places.
In the UK, Cambridge.
Typical Brit phone booth
Dover's white cliffs, from the Calais ferry.
Emily in Munich
A hilltop prison in Austria, used in the mid to late 1800's to house political enemies of the state. It's reached by the trolley line you can dimly see going up the hill.
The obligatory picture of Pisa's leaning tower. Actually, most of the larger old structures around it have a noticeable lean also.
Above all pictures of the excavations around the coliseum/forum area, and Emily with her Italian shades.
After 7 months, we came back to the states. Emily had a formative experience there, on her own she traveled by rail around Europe, staying in hostels, eating street food, and impressing me with her ability to blend in and adapt. The subways of London, Paris and Berlin were as familiar to her as the bus routes in Seattle. She would leave for a week, come back and announce "Dad, I'm out of euros", while looking at the train schedule for her next trip. To her credit, she spent a week in Paris, and spent a total of 300 euros. You try that sometime, while staying in the 5th Arrondissement.
While writing the last few posts, my little Montana town is getting it's first taste of Spring. My crocuses are showing small green sprouts above ground, the snow is gone from my lawn, and I've been fishing. Emily is moving back to Seattle in a month, and my life will revert to the geezer bachelorhood of yore. I'm making plans for some extended camping trips this summer: I'm going to explore the lakes of Montana.
I was stopped once while there, in Bad Kissingen, for talking on a cell phone. A big no-no in Germany, and usually gets you a 100 euro fine and a point off your drivers license. I had two police come up to me, and after we established I had no German language skills to speak of, there was much discussion about why I shouldn't have been on a phone. My Montana drivers license caused some interest, and the conversation turned to fishing and hunting. I got off with a warning, which my German friends found astonishing.
Below are some pictures that I took while there, Rome, Florence, Austria, and other places.
In the UK, Cambridge.
Dover's white cliffs, from the Calais ferry.
Emily in Munich
A hilltop prison in Austria, used in the mid to late 1800's to house political enemies of the state. It's reached by the trolley line you can dimly see going up the hill.
The obligatory picture of Pisa's leaning tower. Actually, most of the larger old structures around it have a noticeable lean also.
Above all pictures of the excavations around the coliseum/forum area, and Emily with her Italian shades.
After 7 months, we came back to the states. Emily had a formative experience there, on her own she traveled by rail around Europe, staying in hostels, eating street food, and impressing me with her ability to blend in and adapt. The subways of London, Paris and Berlin were as familiar to her as the bus routes in Seattle. She would leave for a week, come back and announce "Dad, I'm out of euros", while looking at the train schedule for her next trip. To her credit, she spent a week in Paris, and spent a total of 300 euros. You try that sometime, while staying in the 5th Arrondissement.
While writing the last few posts, my little Montana town is getting it's first taste of Spring. My crocuses are showing small green sprouts above ground, the snow is gone from my lawn, and I've been fishing. Emily is moving back to Seattle in a month, and my life will revert to the geezer bachelorhood of yore. I'm making plans for some extended camping trips this summer: I'm going to explore the lakes of Montana.
Saturday, January 26, 2019
And another one
Nothing really new with me, continue to improve (and lose wt!), so it's meme time for now.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
From Blue to Red
No, not politics, silly. I continue to improve, it's a learning process on my part as I was never a endocrine guy.
My peaks and valley ratio is continuing to shrink as I figure out my intake and output ratio, the diuretic dosage, the diet aspect, etc. I feel markedly better than a week ago, starting to exercise, etc. Alas, there have been some permanent changes I need to make, no longer can I enjoy my evening glass of IPA, but it's a small thing. I have faith in my diagnostic acumen, even if I have some Doubting Thomas's (my cardio guy).
I'll be in Seattle the majority of the winter I believe. I'm hoping to get in one last summer in Butte, but a move is in the future.
Hope all of you are well, and thanks again for your moral support. It was very helpful.
I'll be in Seattle the majority of the winter I believe. I'm hoping to get in one last summer in Butte, but a move is in the future.
Hope all of you are well, and thanks again for your moral support. It was very helpful.
Monday, January 14, 2019
Better
Discharged yesterday PM, at daughter's house, feel much better, think my blood work is no longer way out of whack. Seeing cardio guy this morning to see what he thinks. More later, but thanks for your good wishes.
Mike
Mike
Sunday, January 13, 2019
update
Not a flattering picture, I agree. But, I just ate something, first bites since Wednesday. I won't bother you with the details, but I'm in Swedish in Seattle, and things seem to be improving. Will keep in touch as I can.
Hoping all of you are well.
Mike
Saturday, January 5, 2019
A drift to the past
I haven't been up to posting in a bit; I did a post, decided it wasn't up to snuff. So, I'm reposting one of my 'River Stories', there are about 6 I think, all done 6-8 years ago. This wasn't the first written, just seems to be the beginning.
River, the beginning
I began each day like this, as though it were the last. I know the last days will be here, where the sun runs into the ocean, that I will see in a movement of sea birds and hear in the sound of water beating against the earth what I now only imagine, that the ocean has a sadness beyond even the sadness of herons, that in the running into it of rivers is the weeping of the earth for what is lost.
By evening, when confirmation of those thoughts seems again withheld, I think of going back upriver, up to the log jam, past where the stump is jammed, or even beyond, to the headwaters, to begin again.
I will tell you something. It is to the thought of the river's banks that I most frequently return, their wordless emergence at a headwaters, the control they urge on the direction of the river, mile after mile, and their disappearance here on the beach as the river enters the ocean. It occurs to me that at the very end the river is suddenly abandoned, that just before it's finished the edges disappear completely, that in this moment a whole life is revealed.
It is possible I am wrong. It is impossible to speak with certainty about very much.
It will not rain for the rest of the day. Lie down here beside me and sleep. When you awake you will feel the pull of warm winds and wish to be gone. I will stand somewhere on the beach staring at the breakers, the scampering of sanderlings, thinking I can hear the distant murmuring of whales. But I can as easily turn inland, and go upriver.
When you awake, if you follow the river into the trees up the valley I will be somewhere ahead or beyond, like the herons.
When you are overwhelmed with feeling, when your fingers brush the soft skin of a deer-head orchid , or you see a house ahead, near the river bank beyond the falls, you will know a loss of guile, and the beginning of the journey.
Come find me. We have much to see.
River, the beginning
I began each day like this, as though it were the last. I know the last days will be here, where the sun runs into the ocean, that I will see in a movement of sea birds and hear in the sound of water beating against the earth what I now only imagine, that the ocean has a sadness beyond even the sadness of herons, that in the running into it of rivers is the weeping of the earth for what is lost.
By evening, when confirmation of those thoughts seems again withheld, I think of going back upriver, up to the log jam, past where the stump is jammed, or even beyond, to the headwaters, to begin again.
I will tell you something. It is to the thought of the river's banks that I most frequently return, their wordless emergence at a headwaters, the control they urge on the direction of the river, mile after mile, and their disappearance here on the beach as the river enters the ocean. It occurs to me that at the very end the river is suddenly abandoned, that just before it's finished the edges disappear completely, that in this moment a whole life is revealed.
It is possible I am wrong. It is impossible to speak with certainty about very much.
It will not rain for the rest of the day. Lie down here beside me and sleep. When you awake you will feel the pull of warm winds and wish to be gone. I will stand somewhere on the beach staring at the breakers, the scampering of sanderlings, thinking I can hear the distant murmuring of whales. But I can as easily turn inland, and go upriver.
When you awake, if you follow the river into the trees up the valley I will be somewhere ahead or beyond, like the herons.
When you are overwhelmed with feeling, when your fingers brush the soft skin of a deer-head orchid , or you see a house ahead, near the river bank beyond the falls, you will know a loss of guile, and the beginning of the journey.
Come find me. We have much to see.
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