I guess I should thank him...

But it didn't feel like it at the time.  

I'm about two months after the hip thing, and about three weeks after crutches.  Other than muscle atrophy from non-use and some continued pain as connective tissue and joints get used to their new and previous situations, things are going well.

However, the strength of the union between the hip replacement parts and the bones is still increasing, and won't max out for many months.  I'll be on restriction from kiteboarding and cycling for at least another 30 days.

As previous posts have reported, we gather with friends and family at least twice a year on the Outer Banks of North Carolina for kiting.  This makes the 30th year we've done so, though windsurfing was the thing until about 2008.  This year we packed ten folks into a house with a great launch on the Pamlico Sound side, and enjoyed good winds for several days.

By the way, the one in the foreground doesn't kite - yet.  However, she had a great time splashing around and writing her name in the sand with her stick.

One of the great things about Hatteras is that even the calm days are enjoyable,

Being still restricted, I nonetheless put on a wetsuit and waded out to help folks.  Our son Mike's wife wanted to learn, so she and I and a 9-meter kite spent a lot of a day splashing around and laughing.  It just never gets old, watching noobs get launched!

Otherwise, there's always stuff to fix.  My brother brings his jet ski for rescues, and to take videos of folks kiting and to help with beginners.  A replacement starter solenoid had to be installed,

and I had to wrestle a new kite bladder into place.  (See previous post about leaky bladders.)

On Wednesday, the wind blew a bit stronger, so everyone that could was jumping and back-rolling and zooming around, having a great time.  One of them came in for a break at one point, asking if anyone on the shore wanted the kite.  I happened to be in a wetsuit with a harness on, and it was such a beautiful day, and the wind was perfect, and I started in that direction.... and my younger but wiser brother, the recently-retired orthopedic surgeon stepped between me and the kite, clipped in and rode off.

I guess in today's terms that was an "intervention," and he was right, and like I said, I guess that I should thank him... I guess...

As you might already know, the Outer Banks consist of several long and very skinny islands, essentially glorified sandbars, along which NC Highway 12 runs.  Coming back from church on Sunday in Kitty Hawk, traffic stopped for about an hour as the flaming results of a head-on crash were cleaned up.

Thanks to airbags and dumb luck, no one was seriously hurt.

And then of course there was Hurricane Ian. 

Highway 12 is very vulnerable to storms, and waiting too long can trap folks on the island as a storm approaches. 

By Wednesday evening it was clear that the hurricane's path was unclear, and with prospects of winds beyond useful kiting strength accompanied by heavy rain, everyone packed up on Thursday morning and headed home.  By that point, the heavy equipment was already beginning the of-repeated battle of keeping Highway 12 open.  

All in all, a fun week, though with an unfortunate ending for so many folks in Florida.  Everyone made it home safely from Kite Camp, we didn't break anything, be it kites, cars or humans.  Now, if the doc will just give me a clean bill of health...

Dave

Things can change in a moment

    I'm not sure I've ever hurt that much or that instantly.  After lying by my bicycle and yelling for a while, I tried to get up and realized that something bad was going on - weight bearing caused some clearly wrong, hurtful movement in my right hip.       

     I may have mentioned an upcoming bicycle tour in Croatia, one that was originally supposed to happen in 2019, but then there was that COVID-19 thing you've probably heard about.  No?  Well, it was a mess. 

     Anyway, it was finally supposed to happen for about three weeks beginning at the end of August.  Some of the days' rides look challenging, like over a mile of climbing over about 60 miles distance, so we've been doing a lot of riding.

     We set out for a good 45-mile ride at about 5:30 AM on Wednesday morning at a time when the headlights helped to see and be seen.  It was getting light when we were riding up a zig-zag wooden section of the local Greenway.  I went around a corner at about 4 mph, and the bike slipped out, dumping me on my right hip, still clipped into the pedals.  

     We called a neighbor who happened to be up, he came with our van, we dropped him off and we headed for the "Open 24 hours" urgent care at Raleigh Orthopedics which wasn't open for another hour, during which I finally stopped yelling.  The X-rays meant that I had to be admitted, where some more X-rays said, "Duh, your right hip's busted."  (Below: "Acute, displaced right femur neck fracture.")

     You'll notice that the circled head of the right femur (long leg bone) is kind of shorter and kind of squashed looking, comparing it to the other side.  The orthopaedic MD agreed and worked on scheduling total hip replacement, which finally ended up taking place about 30 (not) fun hours later.

     Back when I was an actual doctor myself doing actual surgery, I always felt good when my patients/victims/whatever awakened from anesthesia, and announced to me that they already felt better, and such was the case for me now.  They let me out of the hospital the next morning, after being instructed by OT (Occupational Therapy), PT (Physical Therapy), SOT (Some Other Therapist) and a few other people, and signing a dozen papers that said various things.

     So what now?  Six weeks of less-than-50 percent weight bearing on that side, no angle less than 90 degrees, yada, yada, yada.  No cycling or kiting for at least three months.  I was hoping that I wouldn't need a walker for a few more years, and that picking my socks up with one of those grabbers could be put off for a while, but I guess not.  

     We try to listen for inspiration on decisions, and occasionally we get the feeling to NOT do something.  However, on Wednesday morning there were no such feelings - a complete "clear" for the ride.  Trying to parse it, maybe a) it was just one of those things to which we are randomly subject in this mortal phase, b) I'm supposed to learn patience and compassion for others through the experience (not working yet), or c) someone else (yes, you, Paula) can learn to be nicer or d) this may allow something to happen that wouldn't have happened otherwise.

     Anyway, to steal and not actually coin a phrase, "it is what it is," and we just have to schlog through the experience, and hopefully learn something.  

     We hope you stay upright on your bicycle, and yes, mine is fine and it thank you for asking.

David

Don't mess with Grandma

    As apparent from previous posts, Paula is an avid gardener, which pursuit borders very close to mania.  This became apparent right from the get-go.  Our first apartment soon had a bunch of plants in windows

and daffodils planted down by the front steps

and when we were lucky enough to move to a little house, one of the first considerations was about the location of the garden.

     This love of gardening has not abated, rather it has intensified through the years.  I made a count last year of how many different kinds of plants there are in our yard, and it came to one hundred twelve.

There are sixty-some tall pines on the property, and only one area by the street that gets much sun.  Because of its public location, Paula's rule is that if something starts looking crummy, it's gone, stuffed in the week's yard waste.  

     And that is why I shave and keep my hair combed (most days). 

     Many years ago, we learned that our yard could be declared an official wildlife habitat!  All we had to do was certify that we provided water, food and protected areas and didn't use pesticides!  Oh, and sent twenty-five bucks to the National Wildlife Federation (www.nwf.org).  For being good people (and the $25) we got a nifty sign that makes people think we're cool.

     However, certain creatures have taken advantage of our kindness.  For instance, our part of town is becoming overrun with Rats With Long Legs, aka white-tailed deer.

     We've been gradually blocking points of egress with wires and gates,

and a motion-activated sprinkler seems to be keeping them out of the backyard.  The video in this link from someone else's property just makes Paula giggle.  On the other hand, it just makes me giggle when Paula forgets about the thing and gets sprayed herself.  Tee hee.

     Paula and the chipmunks have come to an uneasy detente, wherein they don't bother her plants (too much) and she doesn't try to kill them (mostly).

     She welcomes most snakes, as they help keep a check on various varmints (see "chipmunks").  We have a 2 1/2 - foot garter snake that has made his home among the rocks by the backyard pond.  No name yet.

     Unfortunately, this Eden-like Certified Wildlife Sanctuary (for only $25!) has become a nursery for rabbits, specifically Sylvilagus floridanus.  One of their hiding places is just across the driveway from, you guessed it, Paula's street-side garden.  They have been wreaking various degrees of havoc on her flowers and beans.  Sterner measures were needed.

     It turns out that apples didn't only work in the other Garden of Eden.  Small rabbits will voluntarily give up their freedom for slices of Honey Crisp and MacIntosh.

     Coming back from a bike ride the other day, Paula went to water something in the garden, and to her surprise there was the second adolescent bunny of the month in her Have-a-Heart trap, not looking very happy.

     We took him far enough away that, unless he gets Google Maps on his Rabbit iPhone, he's not going to bother Paula's garden again.  Now if we could only convince his probably-thousands of relatives that it's not a good idea....

     Anyway, we hope that you and your varmints/vermin can work it out also.

Dave & Paula

Avast, ye maties!

     There are on-the-water adventures, and then there are on-the-water adventures.  In the trip described in the last entry, we were privileged to sample the beauties of British Columbia from Sam and Emily's sailboat, Thallasic. 

     This week included our daughter Brynn's birthday, and she lives near the coast of North Carolina with her husband Chad and their four kids.  The vote was unanimous to go kayaking on Wednesday. The marine craft this time were perhaps not as elegant as Thallasic, and while they lacked a "head" (that's cool seafaring talk for a powder room) and while they can't really sleep four people,

kayaks are fun and at least the water was warmer.  

     We set forth on our adventure from Swansboro and headed down-wind and down-current, crossing the Intercoastal Waterway on our way to Shark Tooth Island!  

     Paula was paired with Annie The Intrepid who concentrated more on commentary and pointing out the sights than actually paddling.  That more menial task was largely left to Grandma.

    Along much of the Eastern Seaboard one can find the fossilized teeth of the giant prehistoric shark, Megalodon!

and this was the promise of Shark Tooth Island!

     However, either the place had already been picked over, or perhaps was the ancient territory of the much-less-feared Microlodon!  However we did see a mermaid!

     The kids had a great time exploring the island with their mom, 

as did Paula, aka "Adventure Grandma."

     However, Adventure Grandma was not born yesterday, (Note: the number of  'before-yesterdays' is a State Secret), and she wisely traded Annie The Intrepid for someone who could/would actually help paddle and we headed back upstream against wind and current.  (See Annie The Intrepid in the background with Brynn The Brave.)

     The struggle was eventually successful, and the count of passengers in the minivan matched that on the way down.  After a good rest, that evening we celebrated Brynn's birthday.

     It was a fun visit, and we're glad that Megalodon! is prehistoric, even if we didn't find any of his teeth.

Dave

Otherworldly beauty, and I'm not just talking about Paula

     Our son Sam and his partner Emily are on their sailboat for six months, having rented out their house short-term.  They're in British Columbia, moving north.  Depending on the weather and time, they may make it up to Alaska.  They extended a kind invitation to come up and sail with them.

     I don't know if you've ever seen a map of the coast of the province, but it is crazy-full of islands, including the big one, Vancouver Island.  

     We came aboard at Campbell River, at about the middle of the map above.  Sam's boat, Thallasic is a seasoned and seaworthy 34-foot sloop which has sailed five times to Hawaii and once to new Zealand.

     If you've ever spent time on a real-live sailboat, you'll know that they are efficient, no-nonsense craft, with every inch and object having a purpose, and Thallasic was no exception.

     OK, on the other hand, cheese and crackers on a sunny afternoon aren't too shabby.

     Like I said, sailboats are spartan.  Some of them have NO luxuries.

     Just kidding.  One quiet afternoon, Sam rigged the dinghy and he and Paula chilled and doodled around the cove, impressing some of the neighbors in their big motorboats.  

     We saw whales, and I'm not just talking about some of the neighbors in their big motorboats.  No sirree!  Real-live whales, as well as sea lions, seals and other stuff.

     Anchored for the day all by ourselves in a beautiful cove at the end of a narrow passage, we took a hike up to a lake, through a moss- and fern-covered forest.

     Although he is a good, honest man in general, Sam lied terribly about the temperature of the lake water, and then laughed at my distress when I dove in after him.

     Karma comes around, however, and at one point he had to ascend the mast to retrieve a halyard, using a Jacob's ladder sewn by Emily.  That's her in the foreground, trying to remember if she used the right type of thread...

     If I cling to one of the most durable impressions of the trip, it is of cool, near-silent misty islands.  We were all alone in our last anchorage, and it felt like a bit of another world.

    But if I could keep only one feeling, it is of the love I felt for Sam and Emily being with them.  We wish them well on the rest of their six-month trip.  

     And I wish I hadn't left my favorite boardshorts, darn it.  Emily says they look 105% better than Sam's old ones and has claimed them.

     We hope you keep better track of your swimwear and have equally good adventures.

Dave & Paula

A good visit from a good daughter

      As previously noted, our daughter Ashley lives with her husband and seven kids in Uzbekistan.  Their assignment has changed, and they will be moving in two weeks to Nur-Sultan, the capital of Kazakhstan.  Because of tangled State Department rules concerning home visits, they were unable to come State-side this year.  However, because of a nagging but not life-threatening medical concern, Ashley has been here for a couple of weeks.

     She has taken good advantage of the visit, in addition to the needed medical care.  She's visited with old friends, attended the temple, and I think she has bought most of the A&W root beer in Raleigh to send to Kazakhstan with her allowed shipment.  And yes that's a new TV in the box below the work bench.

    I located a couple of used bikes for her and Brandon and they go to Nur-Sultan also.  Along with the toilet paper.

     She's made a point of visiting family while here.  We drove to Delaware this week to see Mike and Adrienne and Krazed Kate, and she did a good job of Aunt-bonding with her niece.

     Ashley was a bit under the weather, so Brynn kindly came up from Jacksonville, NC with her kids.  We distracted the young'uns by taking them to the neighborhood pool so that the sisters could visit, including a side trip to consider Brynn's choices for her kitchen renovation.  Ashley has never been shy with her opinions on such things, and heartily approved.

     We will be sad to see her go this week, though we completely understand that she has her own life, full of kids, packing lists, settling in to a new -stan in Central Asia and all the rest.  

     I never expected that the feelings of love for my kids could become so strong.  The echoes of eternity become more clearly audible with each passing year. 

Dave 

I was correct to worry, but it turned out OK

     Nearly all of my church assignments have had to do with the young men.  I was Scoutmaster for about twelve years with one or another age group, and I get to count being Bishop of a congregation as well as the two missions served in South America.  I'm presently helping with the 16-18 year-old young men.

     So it was no huge surprise when in December I was asked to be the specialist for the encampment of the 12-18 year olds that took place last week.  We were lucky to have access to an old Boy Scout camp for the activity, one with very few facilities beyond fire rings and water spigots.  We decided to not risk poisoning them or their leaders with any of my cooking, and so the largest expense was the cost of renting eight port-a-johns to place around the camp.  Over a thousand dollars, in case you are planning the next backyard party and need eight of them.

     Since our church parted ways with the Scouts a couple of years ago, outdoor skills have atrophied among the youth, so we decided to spend a day in classes covering such basic stuff as knots, starting fires (a good thing or a bad thing, depending), 

first aid, and despite everything being based on GPS now, map and compass. 

     We also felt that returning the favor and doing some service at the camp would be good for the soul, so we spent a half-day cleaning ditches.  

     No good turn goes unpunished, of course, and I was one of several folks attacked by yellow jacket bees when we disturbed their ground nest. 

 

     The final full day was The Day of Manly Feats of Strength and Cunning.   This included such Manly Feats as crossing The Alligator Pit of Death (three cheap inflatable alligators and a big suspended rope to shinny across), Math Fight!, surviving The Water Balloon Firing Squad, figuring out What's Wrong With This Guy? and others.  

     The day ended with, among other things, an eight-vessel Canoe Race.  In my kayak, I represented a pylon around which they had to pass, and the rules didn't say I couldn't move.  A lot.

     The final event was Canoe Jousting.  

     It would have gone better if the padding on my jousting poles hadn't nearly fallen off when it became soaked, and if their canoe-maneuvering skills had been better.  Since no one has to learn how to drive a canoe nowadays, it took an agonizing amount of time for the adversaries to get turned around and come close enough to cause actual harm to each other.

     That said, almost everyone had a good time, and some even learned something.  It was a good experience for many of the young men and their leaders, and in the end was worth the effort.

     However, the months leading up to the event were tough on me, and I haven't sleep well in a while.  I'm afraid I may have to invoke Rule 69 next year if I'm asked to help again.  Rule 69 says that when you reach that age you don't have to do this stuff any more.  

     We hope that your encampments go as well and that the bees leave you alone.

Dave