Hold Tight and Pretend It's a Plan

Ten days since my last post -- that should tell you what life is like these days. The only topics at the top of my mind are all about the day's tasks, and coordinating things well enough that everyone doesn't die of heat stroke. So far so good. Because I have a one track mind (did not watch the Democratic debates, do not listen to the radio except between home and Loudoun if I happen to be in a truck with a working radio, can read for 4 minutes in bed before my eyes close), I will resort to telling what has already happened by 7:20 AM today, and a brief story about last Saturday. Carrie and I meet at the cooler at 5:45 every Saturday. I hold the clipboard and she does all the work. She is 20 years younger and definitely the brawns of the organization (we share a brain, which makes everything go much better because neither of us can remember everything on our own).  She goes in the cooler first and I stand out of the way with the clipboard. We work our way around the cooler,...

I had my last check-in with the radiation oncologist (I had to leave Loudoun at 2:00 in the afternoon to go all the way into Arlington, stopped on the way home and changed into clean clothes so as to make a good impression).  First I had to fill out a form listing all my complaints (none) and all my side effects (none) and all my concerns (none).  Then he came in and told me that my treatment had been 100% on target, perfect in every way, they didn't touch anything that was nearby, and everything went exactly as planned. He showed me the pictures, saying that they wouldn't mean anything to me (true) but he was so pleased that he had to show me the textbook-level images. Then he very seriously told me that the odds of my having any sort of relapse are less than 1%. He said I will die of something other than endometrial cancer.  He also said that it is the most common reproductive cancer there is -- and people do die of it -- but this treatment of surgery and radiation is...

In a recent post, I made a brief comment about Jon's reluctance to ask for help.  He is not unique in this, but I think people all have different reasons for not asking, and other people at the other end of the spectrum don't know what they are asking sometimes when they ask for help. Living in Blueberry Hill, a community that is always learning what it takes to be a community, we get to ask for help a lot.  Every few days there is a request for a ride to the airport, always granted by someone. We could call a taxi but we really don't need to -- someone is generally available to make that simple trip, and you get to talk to a neighbor in the car for 20 minutes. It is easy to ask and easy to give. There are other low level requests all the time -- for ingredients, for advice on a plumbing issue, for dog walking, for being available to receive a package. I think that in general all of those requests are granted by someone. Because we have lived here for a good long time...

Our  family is sometimes noted for thinking that it can do anything, and for doing it. But today Jon and I saw a farm operation that showed us a whole new level of bold effort and accomplishment.  We are onlookers, compared to Sam and Katie Fisher. We got an invitation to an Open House of a dairy farm.  This was interesting to us because this is the farm that produces the raw milk that is delivered every week to refrigerators at our stand.  We have been providing a way for people in fancy Northern Virginia to get raw milk for several years now, and just in the last six months the dairy has changed hands.  I was never very impressed by the people who owned the cows before, mostly because I only saw this part of their system (delivering) and because they made huge assumptions about what we would be willing to provide for them. When we learned they were selling their business, it seemed like an opportunity to be in a new relationship with some new farmers. Thes...

There has been no time to reflect in the last eight days, but plenty of time to live every moment. If I spread it all out here, it will seem ridiculous so that is what I am going to do. A week ago yesterday, Sunday, we started out as usual with trucks going to market at dawn.  Very normal.  And then all the not normal stuff starts: we went to a lovely and sad memorial service that deserves a whole post of its own. In the late afternoon a group of neighbors met for our first rehearsal, learning a new song for the upcoming Blueberry Hill recital. That evening we went out to Loudoun to kegaroke, a party that was concocted by our energetic and creative and ridiculously joyful crew -- another event that could use a post of its own.  It was like being in a club (never done that but that's what I imagine) with loud music, beer, dancing, crowds of young people and lots of silly singing.  The greenhouse lounge was filled with farm workers from all around. It was a scene....