YouTube Gardener

Last year I learned how to grow pumpkins in a greenhouse by watching videos on YouTube. I learned how to tell the difference between male and female Pumpkin flowers and how to hand pollinate them. If it hadn't been for the Internet and YouTube I probably would have been running around with a net trying to catch some bees to turn loose in our greenhouse.

This year, along with the usual Tomatoes, I'm trying Cantaloupe. I found videos that show how to tell the male and female blossoms apart, which is similar to Pumpkins, but more difficult due to their small size and my failing eyesight. Like Pumpkins, the male flowers are first to appear in great numbers but the shy females take their own sweet time to make an entrance. A small artist's paint brush works to transfer the pollen, and an electric tooth brush imitates the buzzing vibes of a bee. (Oh yeah, I got that from a video about Tomato pollination!)

Tomatoes are different; the flowers have both male and female pollen, the bees just stir it up when they enter the flowers. One video I watched was called “How to spank your Tomatoes!” It showed a guy whacking his plants with a rolled up newspaper to distribute the pollen. Another espoused the electric toothbrush method which I liked much better.

If I can find a Yellow and Black striped Tee shirt, my Bee imitation will be complete.

The Big C

Options

The dreaded phone call came in the afternoon.

“Honey, your doctors on the phone!”

I was expecting the worst and I got it. “I got the lab report back from your biopsy and they found cancer on both sides of your prostate. We need to make an appointment so I can talk to you about your options.”

We agreed on a date and time, and after hanging up I told Carol that my biopsy was positive for cancer. I think we both were in a daze as we sat on the patio staring at our glasses of wine. “At least we caught it early!”Carol said.

“Yeah, I hope so.” I said, thinking of my brother JC and the devastation prostate cancer wreaked on him.

Carol accompanied me into the doctor's office and after a short wait he came in. Very explicitly he explained my options starting with the most drastic being surgery, a radical prostatectomy. He explained the nasty side effects of several types of radiation therapy, chemotherapy, hormone therapy and to my relief, and my favorite, “active surveillance.”

He explained that in my case we could wait until my next checkup in 6 months and see how my PSA level is. Evidently prostate cancer grows slowly and in a lot of cases in older patients like me,watchful waiting is recommended.

My PSA level last year was a little over 3, it had raised to 8 at my latest checkup causing my primary care doctor to recommend the biopsy.

Since this was the same doctor who treated my brother I asked him what JC's PSA was when he finally got checked. He looked up the records on his computer and shook his head, “Your brother's PSA level when I first saw him was 700!”

So, anyway I'll be walking around for 6 months with a big “C” for cancer, hanging over my head, (actually it's hovering around my crotch.) or maybe a big “P” for Parkinsons stamped on my brain, or maybe the “P” stands for proststate.

All I know for sure is that I'm not going down without a fight. (I know, everyone says that.)

Me And My Prostate

Since my brother John (JC) had died from metastasized prostate cancer, and when my last checkup showed a significant increase in my PSA level, I was sent kicking and screaming into the referral system. My primary care doc had recommended that I have a prostate biopsy done, but unfortunately the nearest urologist is 60 miles away, in Corvallis. I envisioned a trip to get another exam from him and then another 120 mile round trip to do the procedure. When Carol asked me what the doctor had said, I couldn't remember the word “Biopsy” so I said, “I need to have a core sample taken!”(A term from my mining days.)

At the Corvallis Clinic the nurse gave me a container and directions for a “clean catch” urine sample and after I supplied that she led me to an exam room where I waited for the doctor. When he came in we shook hands and he said,”You look a lot like your brother!” and I realized that he was the same doc who had treated JC. We talked about how JC had waited until it was far too late before seeing a doctor, and then he explained what the biopsy procedure would entail.

“We can do it now, if you're ready,” he said.

“oh,” I weakly answered. Shit, I'm not ready for this!

“OK, lets do it !” I said in a brave voice.

“The nurse will get you ready, and I'll be back in a minute,” he said.

“Take your shoes, pants and undershorts off,” she said,”You can leave your shirt and socks on.” I stood there waiting for her to leave the room so I could undress but she said over her shoulder as she worked, “Don't worry I'll keep my back turned. When you're ready, get on the table, lie on your left side and I'll cover you with a blanket.”

When the doctor returned he sat down and helped position me so that my bum was in a handy position, at least for him.

“Now this instrument that I'm going to insert will take ultrasound images so I can see exactly what I'm doing, It also will inject a local anesthetic and take the biopsies. Biopsies! When did it become plural?

“This won't hurt, it'll just be a little uncomfortable.”

OW!

I couldn't see what he was inserting back there but if it did all the things he said, it must be like a medical Swiss army knife, or maybe like one of those robots on the Si-Fi channel that have interchangeable gadgets on the end of their arms.

“You'll feel a little pinch now.”

OW!

“That was Lidocaine, the anesthetic, and there's one more.”

OW!

“OK, I've got a good picture on the ultrasound, I'll show you the pictures when we're done.” I can hardly wait!

“Now when I take a biopsy, you'll hear a loud snap like a mouse trap going off, so don't let it startle you.”

SNAP!

OW! ...Well, I'm glad that's over!

SNAP!

OW! Biopsies! Plural, remember!

The mousetrap in my butt went off 6 times and then there was a pause, but my hopes were dashed when he said, ”Now we'll do the other side!”

“How are you doing? Any pain? Just uncomfortable, right?”

“Yeah, piece of cake!” I answered. Just get that thing out of my ass!

SNAP! OW! SNAP! OW! SNAP! OW! SNAP! OW! SNAP! OW! SNAP! OW!

“I'm going to withdraw it now.” Thank God!

Afterward, he proudly showed me a string of ultrasound pictures that looked exactly like a bunch of blobs. I might as well have been looking at someones pregnancy ultrasound pics. Was it a boy or a girl? Should I name it yet?

After I got dressed he informed me that it would be 3 or 4 days before the results would come from the lab and that he would call me when they showed up.

Carol was waiting for me in the hallway, and she walked with me as I waddled along out to the parking lot.

Hooked On Who

Recently I connected our laptop to the living room TV and we started watching streaming video on the Internet. We subscribed to Hulu and watched some episodes of Sleepy Hollow and Almost Human that we had missed when they originally aired. I watched Jon Stewart on the Daily Show and we watched a bunch of YouTube videos, mostly about dumb kids crashing on skate boards.

I started browsing through the extensive list of available shows on Hulus menu and when I checked out the BBC network I discovered that there were over 400 episodes of “Doctor Who” available to watch, going all the way back to 1963.

Doctor Who is a British Sci-Fi program produced by the BBC. The program is about the adventures of the Doctor, as he explores the universe in his “Tardis,”a time traveling space ship. Its exterior appears as a blue British police phone booth, which was a common sight in Britain in the 60s. It's huge inside, complete with complicated machinery and even an indoor swimming pool! Along with a succession of companions, (mostly female,) the Doctor faces a variety of enemies while working to save civilizations, help ordinary people, and right wrongs.

The doctor has been played by a succession of 12 different actors which is neatly explained in the show as “regeneration;” when the doctor dies, or is killed, he regenerates into a new body.
We started out watching some of the first black and white episodes, which are pretty corny, but fun to watch. Then we got into the newer shows which have first rate special effects, beautiful sets, good acting and good writing. Soon we were watching 3 or 4 episodes every evening. Now around three or four pm one of us says, “Is it time for the Doctor?” or “Is it Who time?”

Its not a bad way to pass the time during these rainy crappy days, but unfortunately we've gone through almost all of the later episodes. Now all we have to do is travel back into the 60s,70s, 80s, and 90s with our own time machine!

Lions and Bears

Well, I'm back on safari patrol! Our next door neighbors saw a mountain lion trying to get in their horse corral and managed to scare it off, so now the scare is on. A couple of months ago it was a bear that we were worrying about, now it's a cotton picking mountain lion.

Taz and Squeak are typical small dogs; they both think that they can kick anything's ass no matter how big or ferocious it is. Mountain lion, coyote, bear or mouse, they don't care. They think they can ankle bite and yap it to death.

So now I take my old blunderbuss shotgun, put on my headlamp and accompany them whenever they need to go outside into the back yard. Again!

I'm not sure what would happen if I did come across anything like a mountain lion in the dark, with it's beady eyes glowing and a rumbling growl issuing through its drooling fangs. Hopefully I wouldn’t shoot my foot off, or God forbid, one of the dogs, or blow a twelve gauge hole in the side of the house.

Wounding it would be bad, too. Then I'd have to try and track the blood trail into the dense forest that borders our back yard...

Shit! I'm scaring myself!

Wi Fi

Over the last month or so I've been trying to extend our Wi-Fi signal out of my “man cave,” around a corner into the living room so we could watch You Tube, Hulu, and streaming video on the big screen TV.

I bought a “Wi-Fi Extender” on the internet which turned out to be a complete waste of plastic, time and money.

Discouraged, but not defeated I turned to Google and started digging. I found a lot of Do-It-Yourself articles about extending Wi-Fi signal strength, one of which showed how to make a “parabolic reflector” out of cardboard. There was a printable template included on the website and I started to download it but I canceled it when I had a brainstorm (as opposed to a 'brain fart' which is usually just the opposite, but not always.)

I remembered cutting up a 5 gallon plastic bucket to make a higher back rest in my kayak and it was shaped pretty much like a parabola. It was a failure as a kayak seat but with a little help it might make a dandy parabolic reflector.

I dug through the piles of good stuff in my workshop until I finally spotted what I was looking for. It wasn't easy because I had painted it with camouflage paint to match my kayak, making it almost invisible. If it had been in the forest I never would have found it!

I cut a couple of inches off of one end and covered it with some aluminum foil that Carol had set aside for something. (She'll never miss it!)

I put my creation on the shelf behind the router and took my laptop into the living room to check the signal strength. I was happy to discover that it had increased from “poor “to “excellent!”

Now I can sit in the recliner with my wireless keyboard and mouse and do email, write, play PC games, and watch streaming video.

There was an episode of the Simpsons where Homer built a custom recliner for watching TV with a built in beer cooler and Porta Potty. Maybe that could be my next project?

Another Rant

Rant

You'd think that a doctor's waiting room would be a quiet, peaceful place where you could catch up on your reading while you patiently wait for your name to be called, or for a loved one or friend that you've accompanied to emerge from seeing the doctor or dentist.

I've learned that waiting room reading material is usually pretty bad unless you're into year old news magazines, or “Heart and lung Health” periodicals, so now I always bring my trusty Kindle along to quietly pass the time.

Unfortunately there are invariably people who think that every one is dying to hear about their their son-in-laws hemorrhoid operation, (“They were as big as pecans!”) or show pictures of their ugly grand kids to anyone who is unfortunate enough to be sitting nearby.

Today at Carol's eye doctor appointment I picked seats for us away from the few people that were there. The weather was snowy and the roads were icy so evidently there had been quite a few cancellations. After Carol went in to see the doctor I pulled out my Kindle and started reading a nice, juicy horror story. I closed my mind off to the small chatter going on and submerged myself in the scary story.

Then the one showed up. The one who always talks loud. The one who always talks about her or himself. I tried to ignore him and shut his irritating voice out of my ears but it was impossible.

“I almost died from that kidney infection,” he said in his politician- running for office voice, “After the operation the doctor said that he'd never seen so much pus!”

The poor lady sitting next to him got up and went toward the bathroom, (probably to throw up) so he started to turn his attention across the room to me. It's hard to bury your face in a Kindle but I gave it a good try, so he directed his next charming story to an older man in a wheelchair. Fortunately for the old man his caregiver came out and wheeled him away, probably saving his sanity. I buried myself further in the Kindle and without an audience the blowhard realized he was talking to himself and wound down like an unplugged record player.

(For you youngsters that's what we used to listen to music on before DVDs, MP3's CD's and cassette tapes. Records were these round vinyl things with a hole in the middle that... Oh never mind!”)

Luckily Carol came out and we departed, leaving Mr. blowhard waiting patiently for another unfortunate audience to arrive.

EIEIO

How do you spell "Pumpkin"...
P-U-M-P-K-I-N-EIEIO! 
Dagnabit!

Grin And Bear It

Grin And Bear It

My old shotgun seemed heavier than I remembered, but it had been quite a while since I'd had any occasion to use it. I grabbed a couple of double 00 buck cartridges and squeezed through the door ahead of the dogs.

I wanted to make sure that Mister Bear, who had been stuffing himself on our Braeburn apples wouldn't try and have a little doggie desert. The dogs showed their displeasure at being left behind, whining and scratching on the door, after all, it was time for their morning pee.

We hadn't seen the bear yet, although our neighbor Charlene saw it go over the fence into our yard and called us with a “heads up”. The next morning we found several piles of bear crap under the apple tree and we saw that the fence had a big sag in it where the bear had bulled his way over it.

I broke open the ancient Western Field 12 gauge, dropped a shell into the chamber, closed it up and stepped off the deck onto the wet grass. My head lamp lit a yellow circle ahead of me and I could see my breath in the dim beam of light.

Nervously, I walked toward the apple tree where Mr. Bear had left his calling cards, and sure enough there was a fresh pile. I swiveled my head back and forth to illuminate the shadows looking for a reflection of eyes or something that looked bearish.

I walked the perimeter of the yard without seeing anything except shadows, and just as I was starting to relax, a loud racket over my head made me jump and almost leave a calling card of my own. When my heart slowed back down I realized that I had spooked a flock of birds that had been roosting in one of our willow trees. I could hear the dogs scratching on the door to get out and do their business so I let them out and watched over them while they ran around sniffing this strange new visitor's odor.

We'll have apples getting ripe on another tree up into December, so I guess I'll just have to grin and ….. ..!

The Great Pumpkin and Junior

Much to my relief the Great Pumpkin slowly started turning Orange and began looking like a respectable Pumpkin should. I tried to ignore the numerous female blossoms which seemed to be begging for a friendly Bee or me to pollinate them, but when one developed in a good location, I did my crude method of pollination and in a few days Pumpkin Junior was born! Junior grew in leaps and bounds, almost catching up in size with the Great Pumpkin in just a few weeks. Meanwhile the main plant was soaking up water at a prodigious rate, sometimes needing watering twice a day.

The tomatoes were starting to ripen and we harvested a basket full of potatoes, while the Great Pumpkin and Junior keep on growing.