My day’s work

I’ve been having some problems with my bee keeping. Last summer, I had a very significant swarm:

which occurred just after a rain storm. In my hours-long quest to catch the swarm, or at very least figure out what was going on with the rest of the hive, I wound up staring down the barrel of an open hive through of very angry bees when it started to rain again. Bees do not like the roof to be missing from their house when it rains. Go figure. At any rate, this was the only time I got more than one sting, and the bees chased me back to the garage. In fact, when I removed my veil, I discovered that there were still a few bees attached to the back of it.

As a (not unexpected) result of this little incident, I became extremely tentative. When I last opened my hive at the beginning of the spring to clean, reverse, and inspect it, I had such a severe anxiety attack that I closed it back up unfininshed, and returned to my home, self-branded A Bad Beekeeper.

Today, I redeemed myself partially. Brigihid would be proud of my newly split, if unconventional, TWO BEEHIVES:

Yes, the new one is upside down as a result of there being existing brood in the honey super. I’m going to do a reversal in a couple of weeks, as long as they don’t get fed up with me and run away. It is also skewed to the left, but I thought that the girls might like to settle in before I muck about any more. After discovering that there was no clear consensus on how to split a hive, rather than creating a nucleus, I went with a modification of the Side-by-side split. We’ll see how they take to it. It may not work, so I may continue to have to accept my position as Bad Beekeeper.

However, I did manage to do a 45 minute operation without gloves, without stings, and with a minimum of damaged bees. It looks like I may have to feed tomorrow, which seems odd with fields of clover all around, but so sayeth the not-bad-beekeepers.

Poem: Why

Why?

Because I never want to have to admit
That iPlayed while the Earth burned.

My Luddite Ways

Let’s start with my first computer-action of the morning. I was uploading 35 MB of photos for another post… and I found myself thinking about my first summer job. I was hired for a summer to work at a nuclear plant, but, y’know, as a high school student, I didn’t really have any immediately relevant skills. So I got handed the task of inventory-ing all of the computers at the plant. And I remember standing back with one of the engineers who had just received a new computer, and we shook our heads… and the conversation went something like, “Wow. That’s a doozy of a hard-drive.” “Yeah, but what am I ever going to do with 35 Megs of memory?” Yup. I really am that old.

Then I happened upon the Freshly-Pressed list of 11 Things that (Inexplicably) Continue to Exist, and I thought, “Wow. I still use almost half of those things.” So, without further ado (or consideration), here is a partial list of other inexplicable things that I still use:

1. A phone that is not only in my house, but is actually attached to the wall!

This has pride of place after the blackout in 2003, during which I was unable to contact my family because we didn’t have a phone that worked when the power was out. Despite what it looks like, we do not actually take phone messages in ancient runes; that’s just a hobby. Oh, yeah. There’s a pencil in this photo, also.

2. A clothesline:

Which requires 2b)

For the truly urban among you, this is a clothespeg. It clips things to other things, most notably clothes to the line.

3. A mixing bowl.


This one currently contains the first stages of what will undoubtedly become a most excellent oatmeal bread. (The big white thing next to it is a stove. I hear that those are also obsolete in many cultures.)

4. Wooden blocks:

The child in this photo is currently (like, right this minute, not contemporaneously with the photo) playing with one of those calculators that was accused of being inexplicable in the original post. Sorry. Make that two calculators. We sometimes teach physics in our spare time working lives. Oh, yes. I also sewed the pants.

5. Knitting needles:

leading to 5b)

Hand-knit socks:

And to top it all off, here is 6) the garden:

which requires hand tools, a wheelbarrow:

and, because of our thing about the lawn, the piece de resistance:

The Scythe!

I think that the scythe deserves a name of its very own. Any ideas? Also, someday I will explain. Now is not that day.

Making noise

The consequence of keeping your mouth shut is that you never get to meet the people that you agree with.

A lot of us keep our mouths shut a lot of the time. You might never guess it from the number of fringe-dwellers that have started to speak up out here, but a lot of us live our lives in comparative silence. I did for a looooooong time. And guess what? People still guess that underneath it all, I’m really weird. I don’t think I’m all that strange until I start trying to talk to The Normals. You should see me flail about for conversation when I find myself at one of my kids’ friends’ houses. At least solar panels and vegetarian lunches come up from time to time. The thing is… SNORRRRE. BO-RING. I really don’t want to talk about clothes, how great the prices at WalMart are, going to the casino, or how Expensive Coffee Is (My god, people! It comes from the other side of the planet! It has to be picked bean by bean and then treated in three different ways before it becomes the Magical Brew. If you had to grow it yourself, you’d charge at least $12 a cup. Suck it up.)

So, I went to Halifax this weekend, and while I was there, people held a Naked Bike Ride:

Naked Cyclists in Halifax

It was AWESOME. 50 – 70 semi-naked cyclists with body paint riding along the main streets of Halifax. I happened to be in a car when they rode past, but I had my windows rolled down, and the sidewalks were filled with laughter, shouts of happiness (and probably derision, but whatever). I tooted my horn enthusiastically, and I heard more than one person express the sentiment, “That just made my day.” And I thought that the commentary on this event might reflect that. So imagine my surprise to read the mildly dismissive article on the CBC website, peppered with comments about how irresponsible, disgusting, and reprehensible these cyclists are, not only for their public nudity, but for the audacity they have for being on bicycles in a place rightly reserved for cars.

!

The mind boggles.

There is a whole class of actions that I categorize as “thought crimes”. These are things that are either illegal or sanctioned not because they inherently cause harm, but because they make people think about things that make them uncomfortable. This is a very broad class, because it includes such things as breastfeeding in public, wearing clothes that are not appropriately gendered, not bothering to style your hair, being fat, looking like a hippie, not mowing your lawn… the list is pretty much infinite. It pretty much gathers in actions to which people’s reaction goes: “That’s Disgusting!” “Why?” “Eeew. It just IS!”

Speaking up out of turn also falls in this category.

So, for the naked cyclists in my life (and all their compatriots), a heartfelt thanks. Beep, beep! There will be poetry.

Book review: Diabetes Rising

Diabetes Rising by Dan Hurley (Kaplan Publishing, January 2010)
Diabetes Rising - cover

Let’s start this way: I picked this book up at random at the public library yesterday morning and finished it at 2 o’clock this afternoon, even though we had a ‘home sick’ day today. There might have been Backyardigans involved in the rapid read. I will say, in fairness, that this is more of a synopsis than a review. The book is awesome. Read it (that’s the review part).

This book is a beautiful example of science reporting, in which the illusion of objectivity is shed, scientists and the people suffering from diabetes are presented as all-too-human, and the reporting of research/ideas/plans are actually fair and balanced. It is also a fascinating and enjoyable read, which one might not expect from a subject this urgent. And just in case we think that the use of the word “pandemic” in the subtitle is scaremongering, he spends the first third of the book tracing the emergence of diabetes, and showing convincingly that this is NOT an artifact of reporting, diagnostics, or our culture’s hysterical fear of fat. Diabetes is on the rise, worldwide, in all situations, and at all ages. Type 1, which is an autoimmune disease that was one called juvenile diabetes has increased at the same time as Type 2 has become so prevalent.

The middle of the book looks at five of the most dominant lines of research, one chapter for each. As outlined, the reasons are:
- general increase in weight, possibly including rapid weight AND HEIGHT growth in childhood (Accelerator Hypothesis)
- early feeding of foreign proteins to infants with immature guts (“Cow’s milk hypothesis”)
- exposure to (or a tendency to accumulate) artificial chemicals (POP Hypothesis)
- Vitamin D deficiency (Sunshine Hypothesis)
- Lack of exposure to natural pathogens which in some way help to keep the immune system regulated (Hygiene Hypothesis)

In fact, none of these things cause diabetes. But avoiding them may prevent it. (Got that?) We can reasonably address three of these by 1) following the WHO’s recommendation for exclusive breastfeeding for at least six months, 2) supplementing our diets with Vitamin D (which is also recommended for a number of other chronic illnesses) and 3) not being obsessive about sterilizing our environments.

Those are the easy parts (yeah, I know. exclusive breastfeeding for six months ain’t easy. but, y’know. in principle.) The harder things to control are weight gain and the toxic burdens on our bodies.

He is particularly clear in the section on solving the problem (the last third of the book) that the current tendency to blame Type 2 diabetics for getting fat and developing the disease is… um… unfair, shall we say? In examining the POP hypothesis, for example, he reports the observation that very overweight people with low levels of pollutants may not, in fact, be at increased risk of developing diabetes. In his chapter on the “Public Health Cure”, he quotes Kelly Brownell, Ph.D. (a Yale professor of… wow. A LOT of things: psychology, epidemiology, public health, and Food Policy and Obesity) who compares the ‘personal responsibility’ approach to diabetes prevention to “telling people who live near a factory that’s spewing out pollutants not to breathe the air.” It’s really, really hard to follow any kind of dietary restrictions, even if you are becoming ill as a result of it. (I know. It’s possible to be fat, active and healthy, and skinny, sedentary, and ill. BMI’s below 19 are at greatest risk of mortality. Different post, different time.)

So, I will finish where he does: With the stats. In 1866 the death rate in New York due to diabetes was 1.3 per 100,000 residents. If that had remained steady, by 2006, it would translate to 4,284 deaths nationwide. But in that year, 72,507 deaths in the U.S. were attributed to diabetes. In response to this new reality, Hurley calls for a move beyond ‘personal responsibility’ to joint advocacy: “united action … to face down a public, and therefore political, danger to our well-being, and to the well-being of our children”. (And I’ll let you read the last line of the book yourself. It’s worth it.)

Climate Whining

Hey! For an interesting change of pace, it’s not about climate change. I’m just plain ol’ whining about my weather.

I had to wear my winter coat yesterday on the 31st of May, while y’all were posting about your heat waves and beach trips, and I was a little chilly in the blustery wind. I said to my husband last evening, “I could totally commit to being HERE, if it weren’t so damned COLD.” I love the views, and the river, and my developing sense of community and belonging. I have a feeling that we’re on the cusp of something really fabulous and consistent with the radical history of the place. But, here it is, June 1, and we can’t transplant for two more weeks because of the risk of frost. And it turns out that our house is too cold to start the plants inside. Our six-week tomato plants are still only about 3/4 inch tall because we stop regularly running the wood stove in April. I sigh here, because the last fire was only two days ago, and I can still smell wood smoke around a lot of our neighbour’s yards.

On the plus side, the cold is damping down the black flies a bit. And at least we can all sleep at night without benefit of central air. And… um… loons! We have loons. And eagles. And smelt. And… um… it was warm long enough for the bees to get a good start and the plums are probably pollinated. And… um… We have no ticks. Or malaria. Or dengue fever. Or poisonous snakes. Or hurricanes (most of the time). But it would sure be nice to have a longer growing/camping season.

Poem: Headline

Headline (c. 2002)

Through the slick-slack wipers,
I see the transport ahead of me
Fishtail.

But what passes before my eyes
Is not my life, but my
Headline.
And what does it say, this epitaph
By which I will be known
To the City of
Toronto (if only for a day)?

Scientist?
Writer?
Singer, lover of cats?
Student, Priestess, Woman of Spirit who
Rode a mean mountain bike even though (maybe because) it terrified her,
And who once carried a canoe seven kilometers
Overnight
To the next checkpoint because she would be damned before she would
Quit?

No.
It calls me:
30-year old
Mother of One.

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