Aug. 1st, 2016

pameladean: (Libellula julia)
Ooof. Well, I voted in the Hugos, in the nick of time. I had actually, in the course of trying to keep up with the field, already read almost all of the legitimate nominees. I made an earnest attempt to read the others, and even got right through a number of the shorter ones, just in case there was a hidden gem, or a trick ending to a drearily predictable beginning. Alas, there was not. I didn't vote in a number of categories, including the dramatic presentations, short and long, because I didn't have enough information. I read quite a bit in the Related Work category but was not much enlightened. I'm glad that's over.

I'm still working on setting up the Patreon. I hope it won't be too much longer. There's a myriad of tiny decisions that are surprisingly difficult to make.

The weather has been wild and not altogether predictable; though the overall implications are grim, I love looking at the Scientific Forecaster Discussion on Weather Underground and seeing remarks like "The models have not been notably helpful in determining convection" and similar sentiments. I actually feel for the forecasters quite a bit. In any case, the effect on me so far has been mild compared to tornadoes, dangerous straight-line winds, repeated flooding, the loss of trees, the death of campers in the BWCA, and damage to buildings, cars, and people in both northern and southern Minnesota. Mostly it's meant that scheduling hiking has been difficult. Raphael and I did make it to Hyland Park Reserve two or weeks ago and to William O'Brien State Park last week.

Hland had a resonable number of dragonflies, notably widow skimmers; also swallows feeding their young in snags sticking out of a pond, a young bullfrog making its rubber-band noise where you could actually see it, an osprey and one youngster on the osprey platform, and a space of emergent vegetation cut down almost to the waterline, which I thought at first must be the work of park staff getting rid of unwanted plants, but turned out to be the work of a very assiduous muskrat. The muskrat was closely focussed on its task, so we got the closest view of one that either of us has ever had. It shied once at something we weren't sure about, unless it was alow-flying skimmer; and again when we walked around to its other side. But it soon returned, nibbling away and letting us admire its little blunt face and tucked-in ears and even its long flexible tail. The meadows were full of wildflowers, wild bergamot, coneflowers, butterfly weed, a tiny white flower I can never recall the name of, some leadplant, anise hyssop, and more.

At O'Brien we saw more widow skimmers, a twelve-spotted skimmer or two, an Eastern amberwings or two out over the water, a stray Hallowe'en pennant or so, many blue dashers, and some powdered dancers and meadowhawks. Both the lake and the river were very high, so that the sandy verges we can usually walk upon were under water. We decamped to the prairie sooner than usual; it was abundantly flowery, with wild bergamot in greatest numbers, but also gray- and green-headed coneflowers, black-eyed Susan, purple prairie clover, leadplant, horsemint (a very weird plant indeed), and much more. Goldfinches were calling everywhere; the thistle has begun to go to seed, so it's their nesting time, and their "potato-chip, tato-chip, chip-chip-chip" was everywhere. Once or twice we saw them swoop by, but mostly we just heard them. On the upland prairie trail we stopped by a group of five or six dead trees, one live tree, and a dense growth of bushes. It was full of birds: a cedar waxwing, a nuthatch, two elusive woodpeckery birds that were not flickers but were probably sapsuckers, a brilliant and enormous robin. We heard Eastern wood peewees but never saw one; the same with wrens, except that Raphael was pretty sure of one wren sighting. Swallowtail butterflies were also abundant, including a giant swallowtail that ws very impressive indeed. There were the usual bluebirds and tree swallows on the lower prairie and around the parking lot where the birdhouses are.

Pamela
pameladean: (Libellula julia)
I forgot to include this in the previous post. When one is diagnosed with diabetes, at least at an HCMC Clinic that uses MyChart, a huge raft of obligations springs up in one's list of Matters that Require your attention, all marked "overdue" even though you had no idea about any of this just the day before. I've been doggedly working my way through them (microalbumin test; dilated eye exam; diabetes education, which is one three-and-a-half-hour class and three two-hour classes; a foot exam with the dread word "monofilament" in it, which makes me think nervously of Sinclair monofilament, though in fact I have looked up the exam and it is no such thing). I was most worried about the eye exam, but put it off because most insurance plans within our reach, even with subsidies, do not cover routine eye care. I hate insurance companies. They should not be allowed within a million miles of anybody's well-being. Anyway, I had the eye exam last week and everything was fine; the diabetes has as yet had no effect on my eyes. They are a little the worse for wear after 63 years, but the ophthamologist said, "Your eyes look very healthy" in a tone of faint surprise.

The classes introduced HCMC's preferred dietary guidelines, which will drive me to distraction if anything does. "Diabetes," said the first instructor, "likes consistency." I hate routine. I hated it in kindergarten, I hated it in high school, I hated it when I had a day job, and I still hate it. Eating at the same times every day, keeping the same bedtime day in and day out, timing snacks, timing exercise, argh. My only comfort is that I have not been at this very long.

Anyway, any thought I had of controlling things by diet and exercise alone has been thoroughly squashed, so I'm taking metformin. After a month of 500 mg, it and my digestive system had come to a cautious truce, at which point, naturally, the medical profession decided to raise the dose. I complained at length both about having to take it twice a day and about the probability of more digestive side effects, so they gave me an extended-release version, which is taken only once a day and has fewer reports of nasty side effects. Not wanting either last Friday's hike or my weekend generally to be messed up, I collected the prescription last Thursday but only took the first larger dose this evening.

I've also spent quite some time down a research rabbit hole about possible ranitidine (Zantac) and metformin interactions, but concluded after squinting through a bunch of scientific papers and finding starkly contradictory statements on various websites for the use of laypeople, that nobody knows much about any of that and I should quit worrying over it. In addition to hating insurance companies, which I feel is quite a rational attitude to maintain, I also, with far less good reason, hate patient information sheets. I have hardly ever read a one of them that didn't send me into a tizzy for days. I don't think they strike the right balance between accuracy about the likelihood of the things they warn about, and specificity about the symptoms one should be on the lookout for. To me they all read like this: THIS REACTION IS VERY RARE BUT IT COULD KILL YOU! EVEN IF IT JUST SEEMS LIKE THE FLU, CALL YOUR DOCTOR! COMMON EVERYDAY MINOR SYMPTOMS COULD MEAN YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!

I think that's enough complaining for one entry.

Pamela

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