ice is the new water.

ice pond

so it is like a zillion degrees below zero. ok, i exaggerate. i hear it's much colder in minnesota. but i live in missouri. so, i don't really care that it could be worse. it's bad here and our ponds are frozen solid. it snowed. and there is a layer of ice underneath snow. sure, i don't have to drive to work (i work at home). however, there is the old problem of feeding and watering all our animals in this state of "the road"-esque habitat. water is freezing on contact. my polartec gloves are sticking to the gate with only a few drops of water on them.

until this morning, i've been surviving by busting up the thin layer of ice on our ponds every morning and evening so that animals can drink. this morning i busted all the way thru a chunk of ice about a foot thick straight down to dirt. ain't no water left underneath. this is serious.

normally, we have garden hoses running into bathtubs placed in the goat and donkey fields. and an electric ice melter that keeps water from freezing. but it is actually too cold for that. i'm afraid water will just freeze up inside hoses and be a big crunchy mess. i also don't want to risk busting any pipes.

so this morning, i gathered up every recyclable water container i could find and my 2 gallon watering can from my garden and meticulously filled up our two tubs. several trips were made. and by several, i mean 50 thousand. but, tubs are now full. extension chords are run and electric ice melter is keeping the peace. i should have planned ahead. but the weather has been so erratic. one day ponds are liquid, hoses work, fields are muddy, and the next, it's a winter apocalypse.

all seven dogs slept in the house last night since the temps were so low. they have a pretty nice and cozy dog condo, but i'm an old softy. and our indoor dogs don't seem to mind too much sharing the floor, chairs, spare bedroom.

what a long strange week this has been.

the week began on the tail-end of a 4 day full-blown migraine. no doubt brought on following my pre-op appointment where surgeon told me i could only take tylenol for the next two weeks. i swear this happens every time. the power of suggestion is suggestively powerful.

to relax, i try to watch a movie. "the departed." not exactly relaxing but definitely keeping my mind off my head. but we can't watch the movie because there is this low frequency hum that is becoming increasingly overwhelming. we turn off the sound on the tv but it's still there. my husband investigates. it is coming from the middle of the street. the ground is actually vibrating. and the street is covered with bats. they can't fly because of the hum. one bat flaps across my husband's foot. the noise and vibration continue for about a half an hour. we're pretty freaked out. since we really have no idea who to call in this type of situation, we call our drummer. apparently this was the wise choice because within minutes the sound is gone. we continue our movie. but i'm worried about the bats. so i send jason out to check on them. the street is clear. they must be ok.

by tuesday my head's feeling better and i'm looking forward to a good night's sleep. i drift off just in time to hear what we think are fireworks being shot outside. the police come. block off the street. put tape around my car, my husband's van and a neighbor's truck along with the hallway that runs between the two houses across the street. turns out it wasn't fireworks. but guns. we have no idea if someone has been shot or killed. the police collect two types of bullets. one being from an SKS (another version of an AK47). they are apparently looking for a girl who lives a few doors down.

the next day i'm very sleepy. can't find any information of the shooting anywhere in the local news. like it didn't exist. except the police tape was still up across the street when i left for work. i spend the day looking up country real-estate on the internet. we're getting out of the city. i've had it.

which brings us to today. the day i get my face cut open and sewed shut while only being under local anesthetic. first they shoot you up with some kind of numbing medicine. which ironically hurts. and then they blindfold you. then the surgeon cuts around your cancerous lesion while making small talk. then the cauterizer burns away the oozing flesh while creating a horrible smell. then they tape you up and make you wait while skin is sent to the lab. luckily my husband is there with me. he makes me laugh. we pass the time (about an hour or so). the results come back that there is still some cancer left. i get numbed again. more blindfolding. more cutting. more burning. then more waiting.

finally i get the all clear. thinking the worst is behind me i saunter back into the operating room. that's when the real shit goes down. first they ask me if i want to see what my wound looks like before they sew it up. since i'm curious like a cat, i naively say "yes." holy crap! i have a gaping hole in the middle of my face. a perfetly round hole that goes strait back into red bloody flesh. it's a lot bigger than i was expecting. almost the size of a dime. i felt like i was in part of some freakish experiment. thank god they put the blindfold back. they numb me up some more and start cutting. they have to cut more skin in order to close up wound in a straight line. unfortunately i can feel my skin being cut. so more numbing which again ironically hurts. then more burning. which i can feel as well. so more numbing. then more cutting. and sewing. and burning. and then we are done.

before they bandage it up, they ask if i want to see the scar. of course i say "yes" again. like an idiot. that's why cats have nine lives. i look in the mirror and there is this big ugly mean looking scar staring straight back. my face is swollen and bruised. and that's when the tears start. i just loose it. i'm tired of scars. and doctors. and surgical lights. and the smell of beta dine. let's face it, cancer sucks. it just does.

but that's just today. i'm sure tomorrow will offer a new distraction. probably something spectacular to cap off such a bizarre week. perhaps a unicorn grazing in my backyard covered in snow-flakes made of diamond dust and my dogs will speak and my cats will fly.

day three.

glossop square.

day three began with a drive to the quaint town of glossop. purchased batteries & cables from woolworths. had some chips and cheese from a pukka pie stand. sat down in glossup square. ate lunch. fed ravenous birds.

drove to accrington where we were playing that night at the attic. arrived plenty early and decided to do some shopping. found a wonderful semi-outdoor market called "the arcade" where nick was shortly accosted by a wild rabbit. and i purchased my very own pair of UTB jeans. (the boys had been noticing a strange phenomenon: all the UK girls were sporting jeans where the back seam rides rather high, much like a thong, making the jeans go "up the butt". and the term UTB was coined). downed a few pints at the pub next to the arcade while the boys tried to impress the russian waitress.

set up for our show at the attic. met our fabulous promotor john winstanley. used some herbal throat-spray and participated in bizarre vocal and acrobatic warm-ups with the gringos backstage in the kitchen. watched the gringos kick ass onstage. kicked some ass ourselves. after the show was over watched as the town of accrington disintegrated into a mad riot including a show-down between conolly the giant irish bouncer and a rather drunk polish man. ate some more chips. left nick and matt (upon their request) to fend for themselves in the apocolyptic accrington. and the rest of us drove off into the sunrise to the nearest welcome break.

ravenous glossop birds.

nick shows no fear.

utb me.

our band posters up at the attic.

bitter anyone?