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Chest sounds like I swallowed a rattle. Head feels like a lead balloon. Feeling weaker than a one shot Margarita. Went to Walgreens to purchase agents of symptom relief because, of course, there is no cure.

Title?

“Why, I’ve no idea what that means.” You may be saying to yourself.

Hint: Consider the word portmanteau:

portmanteau – a new word formed by joining two others and combining their meanings.

Examples include: smog (smoke + fog) and brunch (breakfast + lunch).

…

As you ponder that let us first consider the weather. What would we do without weather when looking to ice break a conversation. A rather unusual spring up here so far. In a word: DRY. The fire I mentioned in the last post is still blazing away on the Kenai peninsula. In terms of size, it’s supposedly second only to the one burning in Arizona. The wind is once again carrying the smoke over Anchorage, and judging from the thin layer of “dust” on the car this morning, ash as well. Filtering sunshine, the smoke ‘n ash cast an unearthly gray-orange pallor over the backyard. We’d stepped out onto the deck this morning, Happy Wife (HW) and I, to enjoy our coffee. The wind isn’t all bad; it does serve to keep the mosquitoes away.

What else, what else… Oh, right. The bike tour is coming up and there’s a million things to do: Rent vans & trailers; secure lodging for 22 in three separate locales; complete online driver and first-aid/CPR courses; plan daily rides; scout daily rides for road condition; answer countless emails about Alaska; buy bike racks, coolers, drink dispensers, food & snacks, bike tools, spare tubes and tires, etc.; coordinate shuttle support; meet with sag crew & plan lunches; pay deposits, request reimbursement; update spreadsheet — et cetera et cetera…

And that’s only what’s been accomplished so far — there’s more to do before showtime!

…

So, the portmanteau. Have you guessed?

Tampon + ectomy = Tamponectomy.

Say What?!

Well, we arrived home the other day, came into the house and all was well. Until… until I heard the concerned voice of HW emanate from upstairs, “Uh-oh.” Come to find the trash basket in our bathroom had been “disturbed” and the contents strewn on the floor. However, certain previously disposed of contents related to feminine hygiene were missing.

Harry.

Were we surprised? Yes and No. Yes, because he very rarely disturbs anything in the house when we’re away, in fact he’s never seriously damaged anything. No, because of what HW said, “I should never have thrown those away and left them there. I should have known they’d be irresistible for Harry.”

And so evidently they were. At least five of them we’re missing, maybe six.

Induce vomiting? I thought not, might make the problem worse. A quick web search of the condition indicated I  was right.

So off to the vet Harry and I went, he to get an x-ray, which quickly confirmed the presence of foreign matter in his stomach. If said matter expands as it hydrates it could cause blockage and lead to a bad outcome. Or he could pass it. Or he may not. We could put him on fluids to encourage passage. Of course that may cause a blockage in his small intestine. Laxatives? Might help if the foreign matter was all in his colon, otherwise not. Okay, how about endoscopic foreign body removal? Might work, except the foreign matter could lodge in his trachea as we pull it out, assuming we can grab it.

In other words, surgery was the best option. AGAIN.

Sure enough, once the veterinarian opened his stomach, there they were, three used tampons.

But there were five — at least!

“The others are likely on their way to the colon,” the vet said, “I squeezed what I could out of the small intestine toward the colon. It looks clean. He’ll likely pass the rest in a few days. He’s out of surgery and doing well. You can come pick him up before six o’clock.”

You squeezed the matter through his small intestine during surgery? Like making sausage?

“That about captures it,” she told me.

HW picked up Harry and brought him home. He was still groggy and unsteady on morphine. While she was at the vet’s office waiting for Harry she inquired at the counter where they were intending to build the new Nibbe Wing. The heft of the medical files on Harry and Lucy alone merits a separate file cabinet.

Once home Harry grumbled a few times but mostly he just slept. Next day we removed his IV and the rest of his bandages. By day’s end he was back out on the deck, laying lying down enjoying a spring day, while we remained vigilant for his next pooh. One turd later, nothing. One day later, this morning, more pooh, which HW said looked and felt (through the bag) like clay, but still no evidence of the other two you-know-whats.

The expectation feels like waiting for a package to arrive by mail, only different.

The expense? What can I say, it’s a helluva way to get miles on your Alaska airlines Visa, but they all count same.

Big fire raging on the Kenai Peninsula. No rain in sight. Even Anchorage looks like the inside of a cigar bar.

Riders: If you’re looking in, remain calm. There’s plenty of time before the fun begins. We’ve capable men and women up here fighting this beast.

Scatta moose scatta moose can you do the fandango.

Captured in the backyard of Happy Wife’s coworker’s friend.

First, let me mention a new feature at the Alter Ego. No more BIGGER links. Simply click a picture once and if I’ve loaded a larger version it will appear automatically. If I didn’t it won’t.

Weird contraction that, “won’t.” Adhering to the rules I’ve always thought it should be willn’t.

Alas, nobody asked me.

As mentioned, Dr. Jeff and his wife, Dr. Wendy, were in Alaska for a week and stopped by. I love this. As soon as they stepped out of the rental car titular greetings and hugs were exchanged… “Doctor, Doctor; Doctor, Doctor.” In fact, the salutation is not really titular when applied to Wendy as she really does help people. By comparison Jeff and I are poseurs. Still, we’ve all got the club card and it’s fun to pull it out, especially in the company of academic kin.

They and Happy Wife (HW) meandered down to our Nest under a bluesky day; I followed a day later, also under bluesky. It just keeps coming. Fun and frivolity ensued. Including a walk to Tonsina Point with the beasts (aka dogs):

Here’s your chance to test drive the new feature. Click the picture. Feel the magic!

Why HW’s hand is on the butt of an Airedale I’ve no idea. Some questions are better left unasked.

I’ve other things to talk about. Like the irreconcilable difference between HW and I when it comes to pleasant summer weather. Have I mentioned this here before?

Last night, back in Anchorage, we were settling in for the evening behind a glass of wine or three watching the latest episode of Fargo while being graced (HW would say cursed) by the warming rays of evening sun shimmering through our living room window. Roughly 8 o’clock. Granted, when said rays of light stream directly into my eyes it can be annoying, but this is brief and requires only that I change chairs. Other than that, sunshine beaming in through the window past 8 pm is a delicious feature of an Alaskan summer. Payback really, for the accumulated deficit of winter. That is if you ask me anyway.

Ask HW and you hear something very different:

“I hate summer.”

Evidently she overheats easily. Were it not toxic I’d consider mixing her a drink of ethylene glycol. Instead, I lovingly reassure her, “There there dear, don’t worry, it will be September before you know it.” And quietly lament the fact that I know it’s true.

Weatherlady said to expect record high temperatures in Anchorage the next few days.

Consider me expectant.

Still anxious we’re going to use up our summer allotment of nice weather, so that by the time the bike tour begins I’m going to be apologizing to everyone with a variation on the fisherman’s lament: “You should have been here last month!“

Shrubberies and plant life can’t keep up this year. The grass is only variably healthy; orphaned patches of wheat blighted by dog pee dot the swaths of early green. Buds are cautiously emerging on branches, as if to say, “Already? Are you sure?”

It was opening day for the south side Farmer’s market. Happy Wife and Lucy went. Cod, halibut, white king salmon and fresh eggs were obtained. I had the latter lovingly prepared for my morning victual, accompanied by buttered toast and oven-crisped prosciutto. Try it instead of bacon sometime.

BIGGER.

Off we go on our bikes then. See you around.

Remember my idea to pen a letter to your younger self? Well, just call me Johnny-Come-Lately again. Turns out you can buy an entire book of such letters, which includes one by Stephen King. His advice to himself: Don’t do recreational drugs. King had in fact become dependent on drugs and alcohol, although he admitted in his book on writing (more a memoir really which I very much enjoyed reading), that his dependency coincided with some of his most prolific writing. Some of the commenters at that link evidently agree. A good outcome that involves high personal costs I believe is referred to as a Pyrrhic victory.

BIGGER.

65, clear, and nary a breeze brings out the spiritual me. Especially when I’m out on my bike on the 3rd of May!

That’s the aptly named Exit glacier back there, the halfway point of my ride last Saturday. You’ve seen it before if you’re a regular here. Some will coldly say, “Yeah, “Exit”, go ahead, get outta here, and good riddance.” But such an attitude I think only serves to enforce the stereotype of cold being a harsh mistress, and ignores the magnificence of its boldest expressions. Don’t get me wrong, clearly I love a warm day in Alaska, wouldn’t mind enjoying a few more, but so much of the grandeur of our surroundings up here is made possible by winter, and the outwash of its brief, annual retreats. Winter’s bad rap is undeserved.

Had the man come today to pump our pooh.

Quote of the day: “A straight flush always beats a full house.”

Happy Wife (HW) on the backyard deck this morning prior to leaving for work, performing a pro bono exam on Harry.

You know, if by gazing into one ear you can see clear through to the other side…

I’m kidding! Srsly, he’s a smart boy.

Although, as it is with human children, it is a mistake to confuse intelligence with obedience when it comes to dogs. If I shout, “Harry Come! Harry Come! Harry Come!” Three times like that, and we have clear evidence that Harry hears the call but refuses to come, that’s not an un-smart dog. That’s a disobedient dog. Compare: A mother shouts to her son out the kitchen window, “Johnny, Come to dinner!” Three times she does this. Each time Johnny acknowledges, “Okay, Mom!” But Johnny no come to dinner. Do you conclude Johnny is un-smart? Of course not. You conclude Johnny disobeys. Same with Airedales.

Hard to tell from the washed out color in that pic, but that’s a spotless bluesky morn behind HW. And no end in site if you believe my phonecast. Mid sixties, even 70, through the weekend. This is the first year in recent memory when I’ve logged over 150 miles on the road bike before May 1st. See what I mean:

BIGGER.

If you click the bigger link you’ll see Mt. Susitna back there, aka The Sleeping Lady. A little eye candy for any of you tour riders looking in.

This is a picture taken from a point you’ll experience on the first day of riding on the tour. In fact, very early in Day 1’s ride, before you reach the Kincaid pavilion seven miles further, after which you’ll continue pedaling through southwest Anchorage, down South Port Pkwy, through the Ocean view subdivision, over the bridge, down the Old Seward Hwy, up through the South Park neighborhood, eventually popping out on Goldenview Rd. Now the fun begins. From there, you’ll descend very briefly to Rabbit Creek Rd, climb Rabbit Creek to Hillside Drive, turn on Upper Huffman and climb (crawl really) to the aptly named Toilsome Rd, which you’ll turn onto and continue climbing toiling until eventually reaching the lunch stop at Glen Alps parking lot. ~35 miles — smile, you’re over half done for the day!