Crappy week

Well, this week has sucked. Aside from Monday's wonderful news, Tuesday night we had an unexpected windstorm. Even as the winds were howling outside, the Weather Channel's forecast said only gusty winds up to 35 mph were expected. Well, excuse me, but I don't 35 mph winds would cause a healthy, almost 30-foot pecan tree to drop a limb that was about 15 inches around at the point it broke!

The wind started up around 11:30 p.m., or a little later and just blew and blew ... probably a constant 30-40 mph. It was really getting on my nerves and I tossed and turned and worried about the trees and the house. I got up once or twice and tried to go back to sleep. Around 12:35 it got real bad. And a few minutes later, I heard a ripping kind of sound. At first, I thought it was the trash can blowing across the cement patio. But it would have been blown over and rolled, not dragged. I sat up and looked out my bedroom window to the backyard. The pecan tree does have a couple low branches that as the pecans get bigger cause it to touch the ground, but even in the darkness I could tell something wasn't right. I got out of bed for a closer look and my heart started to pound. I went to the back door and turned on the halogen light above the breakfast nook windows and gasped! The biggest, tallest branch on the east side had fallen! I started to get sick, physically sick.

It didn't look quite as bad in the morning light, but the sight still made me nautious. I cried a little about it (and other things) on the way to work.

The tree guy — the same guy I called to clean up the dead elm when it fell during a storm almost exactly a year ago — came today (or at least his crew of youngters did) and hauled off the fallen limbs, pruned the branch and did some trimming and thinning. They also hauled off the 20-foot branch that fell from the old cottonwood and the dead tree down by the creek that also came down during the windstorm. Haven't gotten the bill yet, but Mom offered to pay half.

The pecan tree looks unbalanced now. Like it grew up against a wall, almost. It makes me sad to look at it, but I guess I should be grateful it wasn't worse. No one was hurt, no damage done to the house. The garden underneath the pecan tree will have less shade, but maybe the plants won't be worse for the wear. The birds don't seem to notice what's missing. Since I started writing, a robin and oriole have each taken a turn at an evening serenade. I'll get used to the look. I don't want to, but I guess I will.

Too young

So I have a lump in my breast. And now I'm supposed to go get a biopsy. I'm 36 years old. I shouldn't have to hear the word "biopsy." I think everything will be OK, but a part of my mind keeps drifting to how will I react and what I'll need to do should I hear the "C" word. It's kind of strange to find my thoughts as I'm driving or sitting at my computer at work and thinking about getting chemo or making sure my affairs are in order, as they say.

But I'm trying not to think about that, keep a positive state of mind. I'm young. There's no history of breast cancer in my family. I'm fairly healthy. So it's not likely something to worry about, right?

Anyway, in other parts of my life, the job is boring as hell. I'm a page designer for a small Midwestern newspaper, and it's pretty dull. Not so much because not much happens around here, but because I do the same boring pages every week. I mean, really, can't one of the men do the damn wedding page once a fucking while? Just 'cause I'm the girl paginator, I have to do the lifestyle crap? And yes, I said something about this to my boss, and he hasn't done a damn thing about it. But he doesn't done a lot things he said he was going to do, so I shouldn't be too suprised.