Trudgery, Drudgery and Nudgery

This postings title is the bane of traditional English teachers, but I love to make up new words. Too bad only half of the four are 'illegal' words; I'll have to work on that. There's at least four of my former English teachers who would be thrilled to be reading my invented title--and I revel in that knowledge. And in my memories of them.

The drudgery portion of this post is a Hurculean effort at staying awake and alert enough to teach my ever-enlivening students as we approach finals week. They're stunned at how much we've covered. What they don't realize is how much more I have to give to them in the way of preparation! If only they had learned this as we went along, then I wouldn't be feeling like I was the one going through finals in my fashion of days-on-end-with-no-sleep-and-non-stop-cramming. Though, I do find a noticeable number of fires are burning under a significant number of butts since I started reviewing:)

I continue to find ways to keep my Creative Writing students off balance (and NO, I won't comment on the students who are already off balance;). They will be stunning individuals by the end of the year. I'm anticipating being sat down on my well-padded ass often as the end of the school year approaches as the candle wicks start catching and holding flames over their well-massaged brainpans. It warms my soul, that image-o-mine of them-to-be.


Since drudgery and and were the only two 'legitimate' words in the title I can now fly wildly into the ethers that constitute my thinking style. Please don't be disappointed--it is early in the morning here in The Tin Can. So on to trudgery (I am relying on one and all to know the root word trudge, and for those that don't [students o'mine?] you know what I'm going to tell you to do...~cough~ dictionary ~cough, cough~)

That pneumonia I trudged through is treated and only the usual and typical extended recovery issues are to be dealt with. It's slowed me to a pace that only a sloth would recognize as having any movement at all. While that recovery trudges along, the doc has now placed a new set of diagnoses on my chart: A chest x-ray has been read and interpreted to suggest there is a viral or fungal lung infection in residence within my chest cavity in those ever so warm and wet sacs of respiration. It'll be another week to 10 days before the results of the blood work for fungal infection come back.

My white blood cell count is elevated to a very concerning level, but, has dropped so the suggestion of there being a possibility of me having leukemia is not on the list of concerns anymore. And, yes, the mere suggestion of cancer was quite a slap in the face. And, as most of you know, I don't react well to slaps to the face. In this case I merely let my mind go at warp speed to all the ironies my life has bestowed upon me, and a quick view of how this posited cancer chance was the biggest Mama irony of 'em all and then I put it away and waited for better news. It seems to have worked.

It also provoked me to sit down and write a letter to my birth mother reiterating my need to meet her. That left my knees knocking and my heart doing double time.

So, the trudging through my recovery will be extended given that the treatment for a fungal infection is a pretty harsh and lengthy one. There is one upside to it, however: I get to give sputum samples by the baggieful to my doc:0 Passing along body fluids in a ziploc seems so...Wal-martish. It's like I get a refund on a returned item!


And now for the nudgery. For the nudges I've had to give to many that I must involve myself with regarding the building of the house, the universe finally recognized that I was entrenched in my own little circle of thought and gave me another whallop upside the head and knocked me onto a better path of pondering. Rex kind of triggered it when we met last week when he said that this house is a very complicated build. That's when the frying pan's ringing sounded after the powers-that-be swung with a gusto and made a solid hit upon MY brainpan. Given the lava block material, my art school design background and particularness to details, form and function, style, panache and plain old hard headedness, the quarry of rock that is my land, it being New Mexico and who knows what the hell else--YES! it is a very complicated build. I settled right down and am hunkering down for another three months of Tin Can living. And, YES! again, La Mirada will be my refuge.






The block are going up. The window frames are being placed in their respective locations in preparation of placement. The electrical is complete at plug level (18") and switch level work will be installed at the 42" level. The new install date for the roof is January 9th, 2008. I'm anticipating it being March before I can call it a done deal. What a hellova birthday present, eh?

And now that the language anomalies have been dealt with, here's the critter tales: Watching for the shooting star of the night earlier this week I heard some rustling within the walls of the build. It was critter-based, not housing material-based. Went back in and got the .12 gauge and a flashlight. Trying to balance a pistol gripped .12 gauge and a flashlight like the cops do on tv (tho they've got a handgun instead) I follow the scratchings. They're on the other side of the garage/kitchen wall.

Slowly...slowly...I raise the light and gun. I'm fixin' to load the chamber and raise the gun into position. I lean over to see what I may be shooting...and...I start cracking up. This poor little kangaroo rat is munching away on some tin foil from the lunch burritos that the boys have jammed into one of the holes of the block. I watch the little furball try and hide between the blocks, though it never really tried to escape--just hide. I talked all nice to it and wished it well and apologized for having to take away it's source of aluminum, but aluminum really isn't one of the essential minerals for a well-balanced diet. The tawny beastie made it out of the block wall and back to the wild by the time I checked on it in the morning.

Then, today, I see the white puff of a baby cottontail take sanctuary under The Tin Can. I talked nicely to it, too, esp. since it was a young one. It's been around for a few weeks, hiding under TTC or the steps. I think its parent(s) was/were what was e't when all that screeching was going on that night-of-the-hellova-lot-of-noise. I like bunnies. And this one can live under The Tin Can for as long as it wants to.

And three mornings this week I saw coyotes on my way out of Tierra Grande. Beautiful ones. And well-fed, too. Nnnnhhhhh-that brings us full circle back to the little cottontail's folks, huh? Welcome to my place in the circle of life, y'all. Hasta manana.