Category: stories

this may feel a bit strange

Now 13 July
Ahh, home. What a weekend. And it isn’t even over yet. Gonna take tomorrow off so that Ang can just rest, Abby can still do swimming, and make sure that no mermaid climbs on her. THAT hospital had a very bad time keeping things together from the get go…but that is a different post.

2 hours ago
Ang is in the hospital, recovering, she is going home today. I smuggled in a Venti Mocha, and my computer so I could tell you all about it.
The girls want to stay at Nana’s house another day but I think it won’t happen again tonight. I am sure they love being the focus of attention, the painted fingernails and toes, and lots of movies. Maybe in a couple hours the 3 of us will get outside and wash the car and enjoy the beautiful afternoon sun.
I am in the hospital blogging with ‘loaded’ legs and a full nights sleep behind me.

14 hours ago
I am leaving the hospital after spending an hour or so nodding off while watching Pirates of the Caribbean III. I must say that the first hour of that movie is tedious. I smuggled in a chocolate bar for Ang for the movie but it didn’t make it past the DVD player setup.

15 hours ago, 12 July
I feel like I have to ride. My legs are juiced and I don’t care that it is 10PM, a ride through town in my t-shirt and shorts (which now present just way too much drag) over to Mom’s house for three personal pan pizzas that burn the roof of my mouth. The summer evening, and the breeze on my face, reminds me of being a teenager; too young to drive, too old to be in bed but not so grown up that a good game of hide-n-seek is out of the question. It is very liberating after the last 24 hours. Thank you so much to Nana and Papa for taking the girls for the night.

approximately 19 hours ago
Dad and JC finished the ride! Congrats you two. Hopefully you got a nice post ride picture that I can link to later. No cramps, extra energy, and a good tailwind at the end all combined for a good ride. Sorry to hear that JC had such pelvic pain. That was unexpected and made for a miserable ride until the Advil kicked in. 🙂

approximately 21 hours agoJust talked to Mom and she heard from Dad They were approaching the Lewiston bridge about an hour ago; Damn I’m good!

approximately 22 hours ago
Ang just called, she said she is feeling better but still needs the IV medication for pain. I guess she won’t be coming home tonight. I got a lot of work done today. I just stayed in all day despite the beautiful sun so I could be ‘on call’ and I just woke up from an unexpected nap. I guess I was a little tired after last night. By my estimation Dad and JC should be just about on the Lewiston Bridge by now.

approximately 30 hours ago
Dad just called. He said they were already in Centralia! He really wanted to check on Ang and let me know that he and Jim really miss me being there on the ride. I miss being there too. But priorities are priorities and I did,
by the way, make a vow “in good times and in bad”.

approximately 32 hours ago
Wow, she had her surgery at 2AM. That was fast! After waiting for 4 hours between the time that we got to the ER till the time the doc got time for her they sure moved quick on the surgery.

approximately 35 hours ago
Just got off the phone with Andy. He is incredulous that I am not riding. I am already over it, a lot has happened in the past 8 hours. PaPa called too, he was worried because Yvonne didn’t come home last night. I may as well get up and get over to the hospital so that I can be there when she goes in for surgery.
The girls will be hungry and I am sure Gramma Nana didn’t get much sleep with Emma. She isn’t just a kicker, she is a grinder too. Speaking of which…coffee.

approximately 37 hours ago
I had to at least see them off. Dad and JC are pretty upset that I am not gonna be able to ride with them. I think they both had a brief moment of denial, followed by a question about whether they wanted to ride or not. It didn’t (and shouldn’t) last long. They are there for each other and even though last nights activity didn’t make for the BEST night’s sleep they seem prepared enough. Dang this is early.

approximately 39 hours ago
Angela is getting admitted. She has a clear cut case appendicitis and the doc said she will probably have surgery sometime in the morning. It is abundantly clear that I will not be riding with the guys 200 miles to Portland starting in just a few hours. They should be able to make it just fine.

approximately 41 hours ago
Angela’s mom Nana is cleaning all of our dishes. Worried.
Ang is finally comfortable with a heavy double dose of pain reliever and she should be going in for a CT scan of her belly in about an hour to see if they can get a fix on what the problem is. I am still fuming about how LONG she just laid there, in clear pain. The STP is an also-ran.

approximately 42 hours ago
I have had it. I finally got into it with one of the orderlies/nurses and he took it for aggression. I clearly and loudly explained that I could walk out the door and get some Tylenol to at least help with her pain and he just said “rules are rules”. Nobody in this place has a snowballs chance of getting on my good side now. In fact, I don’t have a good side anymore. My good side was going to the STP and wasn’t worried about how much pain Ang is in. Ack!

approximately 44 hours and 15 minutes ago

[in a hurried voice] JC? I am sorry but I need to take Ang to the hospital.
No problem…It’s that bad?
Yeah, she is in a TON of pain.

[in a calm Dad voice] Abby? I am gonna take Mommy to the doctor okay? JC is gonna stay here with you until Gramma Nana can get here.
Which doctor? You mean like where my doctor is?
Yeah.
Okay, as long as I know where you are.

[on the phone]Dad? Can you come get JC and have him stay at your place instead of mine so that you all can get to sleep. I am taking Ang to the hospital.
No problem.
Thanks, bye.

approximately 44 hours and 30 minutes ago

Hey JC! C’mon in. Grab some pasta. We already ate but we are gonna get our bikes prepped a little bit here and then hit the hay! Ang is laying down for a few minutes. She isn’t feeling great.
See ya in the morning! [to Mom and Dad as they drive away].

approximately 45 hours ago

Hey Andy! Yeah, I am really full too. Kinda takes the edge off the butterflies doesn’t it? Cool. Maybe we’ll see you in the morning? Yep, we are starting out at 4AM and driving to get near the starting line. Allright. Get some sleep. See ya.

approximately 47 hours ago
Foods all ready. Mom and Dad should be here shortly. I am pacing around like a caged animal and the kids are endlessly squealing. Movie time. We just need to get the food done and the bed made for JC and the bike ready and…

Honey? [with a serious look]
Yeah.
I am having some serious gas pains.
Hm.
If this doesn’t stop there is no way I am going to Portland.
[blowing it off] Ok. It’ll be fine. [I can get a ride home with somebody…shouldn’t be an issue]

approximately 48 hours ago

Woo Hoo! I am home early. Feeling good, a little weak in the legs, but I am sure by tomorrow morning I should be good to go.

famous last words

On the night of the lunar eclipse I held a brief conversation with The Great Grand Mermaid and Grumpy where we discussed how much time things take now days. I asked specifically how they had managed with four children when I have about all I can take with two. Sometimes two mermaids feel like four but I know in my knower that they pale in comparison to the stress exhibited in families everywhere. The feeling I got from The Great Grand Mermaid was that there was much to do on the farm, and they were kept plenty busy but that somehow, still, there wasn’t the intensity, and somehow the life was more sane despite the lack of creature comforts. I suggested that it was perhaps the creature comforts (expressly the technological ‘advancements’) that contribute or even cause the undeniable chaos of our generation.
Today I stayed home from work mistakenly assuming I would be able to get SOME work done (intermittently and during naps) while Mommy Mermaid fought off that which ails her. [Have I mentioned yet how particularly bad this season has been for ailments? Sheesh.] By the way, when I say ‘work’ I do mean the effort that keeps The Mermaids in all of the latest fins and seashells.

Hoy, was I wrong.

I did manage to complete the errands and outdoor tasks that elude a regular work-a-day schedule while The Mermaids were otherwise engaged with dirt and playing ‘human’; how quaint.
Needless to say my typical day as a knowledge worker does little to prepare me for the frustrations of a mermaids demands. I bow down to stay-at-home moms/dads everywhere.
After tucking in The Mermaids I was content to sit down to my ‘work’ machine and pound out a few knowtes¹. I was thirty full minutes into a good knowte when an unusual and persistent sound made it’s way to the fore of my mind. I investigated, promptly slipped on an inch of water on the floor of my laundry room (9+ gallons as I would come to find out) and struggled to stem the hissing, seething flow from behind the washing machine.
I was both very wet and successful.

You may interested to know, as I do now, that burst washing machine hoses are among the top (if not #1) causes of water damage (and insurance claims) in the home. (http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0EIN/is_2002_Sept_17/ai_91669484) In fact, I find the washing machine unit to be rather unique with all three primary units of plumbing (hot / cold / drain) plus electricity not to mention the extreme of the spinning drum. This all points to what one should consider to be the most likely focus of failure in an abstract system, i.e., the most complicated one.

This all brings me full circle, back to the conversation with The Great Grand Mermaid and Grumpy. Their lives were hard, perhaps especially on farms, but uncomplicated. They may have even pined for a hot shower or indoor toilet but all that lacking added up to an uncomplicated simplicity that most importantly lacked the incessant crowing of our everyday. Did they have computers? TVs? Forced Air heat? Natural gas pipes? Hot Tubs? Water Heaters? Showerheads? Toilets? Homeowners covenants? SPAM? Sound Bytes? Cell Phones? Cable? iPods? Satellites (both orbiting and re-entering)? Space Programs? MERMAIDS!? Blogging software (which by the way is not secure anymore and 2+ versions out of date…I need one more thing to do)?

No, they had outhouses and farms and really bad snowstorms. Were they (or are they) sane? Yes, for the most part.

Were they always warm and comfortable? Perhaps; perhaps not. The ubiquity of these creature comforts was certainly not there but what is the cost of the struggle to keep these systems running? Just tonight, my washing machine (and my relating it here) cost me four hours of knowtes, two steel mesh hoses, two or more hours of sleep, and a pound of cinnamon bears. That doesn’t count the debatable mental cost, the potential for more (or less?) drywall, and replacing the valves now corroded OPEN that feed my new burst-resistant hoses.which I would have done tonight while I was ‘under the hood’ except ‘they’ don’t sell any valves at Freddies.²

Now I am not ‘on the brink’ or anything, I actually got a perverse sort of pleasure out of the struggle with the stubborn gate valve and abnormally wet laundry room when contrasted with four forgettable hours of knowtes. Not unlike the pleasure I imagine a 1920’s man may have had from finishing that cord of wood after 16 hours in the field. This is what, I think, makes the mental cost of tonights struggle debatable. But in this time of higher taxes, double incomes, the Joneses, and The Mermaids the necessity of knowtes is undeniable and that alone is mentally taxing.
So, carry on: Replace your washing machine hoses every three years, get your yearly physical, shred your documents monthly, Armor-All your dashboard weekly, drink eight glasses of water daily(or is it six…four?), sit in two hours of traffic every day, check your email every five minutes, and make sure your computer is backed up all the time.

Me? I am going to bake my drywall with a space-heater so I don’t grow allergens in the wall and then I am going to hit the hypo-allergenic hay. Ahh, the simple life.

—-

¹A knowte would be an indeterminable unit of work, recompensed (usually with a salary), and performed by a knowledge worker.
Antonyms: blief

² Freddies is the only facility with a passable plumbing section open between 21:00 and 23:00. Open that late, no doubt, to feed the frenzied, fast-food, creature comfort, demographic; or is it feature-comfort? Eh, that is another post.

Considering we have been to Childrens Hospital now about five times in five years, I can just about start a tab running at the front desk. I think we have been in every room in the ER and we know the drill.
Abby knew that there were snacks, I knew where they were.
Abby knew there were movies on the TV, I pretty much remembered the channels.
Abby even recalled that they give patients a teddy bear, and being so prepared, sweet talked the nurse into one for herself before they delivered one for Emma.

Sunday night, Ang said, rightly and authoritatively

Something’s wrong.

Indeed it was. Emma had a respiratory infection, caused by respiratory syncytial virus a.k.a. RSV. It was likely her second infection in a row, and it had triggered asthmatic symptoms causing her much extra work while her lung capacity was reduced to about 30-40%. What made it difficult, at first, to conclude that something was wrong was her unusual happiness. She had a 103°F fever, enough phlegm to choke a horse, and still she smiled and laughed…until she coughed…and then she vomited…for the fourth night in a row…AND THEN Mommy made the aforementioned proclamation.

So, we took our semi-annual family trip to Sand Point. Spent five hours in the ER while Emma revolted at the mere hint of a face mask; much crying, then coughing, and…you know the rest.

After 2 hours on a nebulizer she showed good signs of improvement but not enough to give the supervising ER doctor a warm fuzzy feeling so she was admitted. Oh yeah, and that pretty much meant Mommy was admitted too.

In a nutshell, that meant Abby was at Gramma Nana’s that night at 11:30 The Daddy was asleep by 02:00 and The Mommy didn’t sleep at all while she held an oxygen tube, out of striking range, at three inches to ensure oxygen saturation above the level of alarm.

The next day, a short shift change, a short nap for the Mommy, and incremental improvement for a very tired little girl, the medical staff still insisted that Emma be off of her oxygen-crutch for a full 12 hours before going home. It sounded like they were talking sense; Childrens Hospital, for the most part deals in exceedingly good sense and my experience has shown that they perform especially well.

At this point the little mermaid pointed at the door and said

Ohme [Home]

We sympathized with her and yet the monitors remained.

That night the monitors were removed, and the next day she was declared ‘a discharge’ at 13:00. Five hours later the nurse printed out the first and last paperwork form detailing her medicines, got it utterly wrong*, and we bolted out of that cage like a family of relocated black bear. A little groggy at first but determined to put some distance between the cage and our numb hind ends.

After all that, we won’t be sure that Emma doesn’t have chronic asthma for a couple of years but we do know she has a propensity for asthmatic reactions to RSV that can be life threatening. We don’t know of any other triggers as yet but we are certainly now a bit more sensitive to the signs.

She may try to delete this when she is 15 but she is still really cute in that gown.

* I did say that ‘for the MOST part’ they deal in good sense. This guy was a piece of work. I didn’t see it all but I saw enough to know that he wasn’t gonna get any tip from me.

So we were enjoying another dinner together and I needed some spice.

Abby, can you pass the pepper please?
No.
Excuse me?
No thank you? I don’t want to.

Okay, so this answer has the breath of some things we teach Abby:
* be polite
* be honest
* let us know when you don’t want to participate.

The fine line between not wanting to participate and simply accommodating a micro-request is still, for her, a little gray. While I may have been taken aback I was also bemused and I retorted with a twinge of sarcasm.

You can’t put your fork down and hand me the pepper?
no [almost imperceptibly]
[with a bit more sarcasm and a wry smile]
Can you move it with your mind then?

I thought that was the final word and I prepared to get the pepper myself but with a twitch of her eyebrow and a small tremble of effort Abby fleetingly engaged the inanimate pepper mill with her formidable mind. Turning to me she answered decisively and honestly.

No.
[after the laughter started she laughed with us and continued]
I can’t!

I have to remember that sarcasm is still a few years away, but the interplay between adult sarcasm and children’s honesty may be ninety percent of the content for child humor columns, so I keep at it.
Recognizing the actual effort of her attempt, I reached the pepper myself.
She likes me retelling this story.

Abby has the gift of gab.
Every line we stood in that was longer than 20 minutes ended with a goodbye to a new friend.
All but one line ended in a ride or a meal.
Two lines ended in new toys.
* The girl in front of us on Space Mountain gave Abby her (whale) dolphin.
* A woman in front of us on Toads Adventure gifted Abby a small Tinkerbell for her pocket.
Four Japanese girls on holiday wearing Minnie, Mickey, Goofy, and Tigger ears thought Abby looked like Dakota Fanning and took their pictures with her, teaching her the Japanese word for cute.

But some of the best gifts were untouchable.

On the first day Abby was startled and scared by the menacing characters of her first indoor Disneyland ride, Pinocchio. At the end of the ride, she was crying pretty hard. Alison, an attendant at the end of the ride heard her crying and asked us what happened. She immediately gave us the lowdown on the remaining rides, Peter Pan and Snow White. Then she took the step that makes Disneyland real. She said,

Abigail? Do you like Peter Pan?
Yes [between sobs]
Well why don’t you come with me and let’s take a ride on the flying ship with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.

Alison proceeded to take us up to the exit and straight onto Peter Pan without the 30 minute delay of the rest of the line. And when we were done with that we were told we had a spot in Snow White if we wanted. Abby was good after Peter Pan and didn’t ride Snow White until the last day but Alison made an impression on Ang and I.

Abby is particularly fond of Ariel, Snow White, and Cinderella but now Alice in Wonderland has a special place. On day four, we saw Alice and The Mad Hatter dashing across the plaza, grabbing attention and navigating small children and strollers. Abby saw her and I encouraged her to run over and “catch her up”.
She did, and after the brief hug and picture that followed Abby just stood there and watched the next kids getting autographs and the requisite clever quips in Madhatterese.
Every time Alice looked towards Abby, Abby waved.
One woman, whose daughter was waiting patiently behind Abby encouraged Abby to take her turn. Abby said

I already did.
Oh, I thought…well…but you kept on waving at her.

Alice heard the exchange and turned to the woman and said,

Because she’s my friend.

Abby and I looked at each other with wide eyes.

[matter of factly]I’m her friend.
You sure are honey.

Shortly, her purposeful lingering was further rewarded. Abby was approached by the Mad Hatter this time and then Alice joined in for a 2-3 minute conversation about tea cups and riddles and other things Wonderland. Considering the other pressures on their time that may as well have been an evening dinner.

It was real and all because she was her friend.

So, the return flight has started, my girls are sleeping (or trying to), let’s blog. *
All the books claim that most kids answer the question

What was your favorite part of Disneyland?

with the answer

The swimming pool at the hotel.

Long story short, our experience was no different.

It might have been meeting Ariel, or riding the Big Thunder Railroad, the Grizzly Bear Whitewater Rafting Run, talking extensively with Alice and The Mad Hatter, riding Space Mountain three times (and inexplicably spying trees therein), hugging Minnie Mouse, or driving any of the many automobiles around their respective parks, or even the longest and most expensive ride of them all, the 737.

Those would be the favorites of a certain Mommy and Daddy. While an independent observer may have taken careful note of the starstruck looks and the enviable screams of joy followed by the common refrain

Is that the real…
…Cinderella?
…Ariel?
…Mickey The Mouse?
…hot lava?
…fire?
…[insert another punchline, character, or effect]?

they may have come to a similar conclusion as The Mommy and The Daddy.
But that same casual and independent observer would have likely heard the same answer to the common question;

The swimming pool.

That may sound like a bad thing but it was not. The aforementioned joy was no less real and no less incredulous by this repeated answer. The metaphysics of reality aside, it certainly was a real good time and now we know that we can go to Wild Waves or, for that matter, any local Super 8 Motel for the vacation dreams are made of.

Stay tuned for part 2 and some special stories that individually made the trip worth it.

(Note: I wrote this on the plane ride home but posted it tonight, a couple days later.)

I had this small idea for a brief little post this AM to share with you my touristy side about how I got my first coffee at the worlds first Starbucks on my way to work but right after I took my first sip my idea changed.

Right before I left my previous job in Auburn I was turned onto the idea of ordering “good” (organic, fair trade, shade grown, [insert cause here] ) coffee from a place called Grounds for Change. Angela and I gave it a run and found it to be just fine and morally better than some other alternatives, so we stuck with it.

The original conversation that led to the first order included relatively disparaging remarks about the quality and taste of Starbucks coffee. It is over-roasted, burnt and (paraphrasing) generally tastes crappy. I agreed conversationally but inside gave the thought a modest and relatively uninterested ‘psh, coffee is coffee’.

It has been about a year now, after my move downtown, and I have been taste testing various coffee houses, trying to develop a sense for which location I prefer, which has the best ‘flavor’ etc. Granted I tend to sweeten my coffee to the point where I am comparing the flavor of sugars as much as the flavor of coffee but there is still adequate comparisons (as long as I put a lot of sugar in all of them). hehe

During that time I have mostly consumed Starbucks Sumatra blend, which they supply at the office, and it is generally adequate. Also recently I watched a documentary on PBS called Black Gold and that turned me onto a particular coffee that they happen to sell at Grounds For Change, it is Ethiopia “Yirgacheffe”.

I tried it for the first time last night and I am not disappointed. It is very good and morally rewarding as well. Somehow, buying this coffee makes me feel like I am helping out the underdog in Ethiopia rather than the Big Dog in [insert suburb here]. I know that almost all underdogs want to become Big Dogs and we tend to have a soft spot for underdogs in The United States of Big Dog…but that is a different thread.

All this to come to the point that as I performed my duty this morning, finally stopping at the first Starbucks to use my giftcard, and swallowing my first sip of…ACK!! over-roasted, burnt, and a basically crappy tasting cup of coffee. The Ethiopians and opinionated Existentialists have ruined me, and now (if I end up really taking to coffee) I won’t be able to walk into any city in the world, walk three blocks, and enjoy the resulting caffeinated beverage. It just doesn’t taste good anymore.

I just stopped reading an email from my Auntie Hane about Cow Cow and I remembered that my story needed telling too. (Great Cow Cow adventure by the way.)

Yesterday was day number 4 of painting in Abby’s room.
We’re gonna do a real cute white base, with very light pink above a thick chair rail for relief, it is gonna be great…but I digress.

Abby, coerced us into buying her very own tiny paint roller (a little pink touch up roller), and she and I were all set to paint together. The potential for drips and paint on her clothes and hair notwithstanding.

I set her up with the ground rules.
* Don’t touch the electrical outlet (exposed – but she has a healthy fear of those so I am sure she will need some kind of acclimatization therapy once she is old enough to plug stuff in)
* Don’t paint anything but the wall
* If you drip, just tell me, we can clean it up.
* Roll it like this and that’s it.

Okay, I am just gonna run downstairs and grab MY roller and pan and I will right back. Okay?

Okay.

I quickly exit and pass Ang in the hall.

You are just gonna let her paint in there by herself?

[I scoff] She’ll be fine.

Quickly, and confidently yet still not underestimating the power of a 4 year old to find “another way” I grab my possibles, jaunt back upstairs, and down the hall with a saunter, THAT was fast.

As I turn the corner into her room, Ang right behind, I begin with

How we doin…

Abby, turns with a look and a desperately teary eye that says

“I-know-I’m-in-trouble-for-this-but
maybe-he-will-think-it’s-funny-but-I-know
I-better-say-something-because-this-just-isn’t-right
and-can-you-please-just-get-this-off”

sticks out her tongue and it is completely white.

Immediately the outright bawling started.

I don’t wanna go to the mergencyyyyyyyyy!!!

DOH!

The one thing I didn’t think of in my litany of rules. I suppose I could have also reminded her not to say…run with the bulls in Pamplona or ever exit a moving vehicle but gahhh.

Then the fun starts, Ang quickly grabs her and does the right thing rinsing her mouth out with toothpaste and a toothbrush while I am reading the fine print on the back of the paint bucket.

SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION IMMEDIATELY!

Then the real parent grabs the phone and dials poison control while I stomp around being angry with myself for not thinking to explicitly list “don’t eat the paint” in my Rules List and wondering aloud “Why did you do that? That is POISON!”

There I go, setting off that bomb. Somebody take me out of the room. Is there another word that has more gut-wrenching impact on a 4 year old who has learned not to even approach the underside of a kitchen sink and recoils physically at the very sight of [insert nasty cleanser name here].
Now she starts to cry, uncontrollably so, then sticking her tongue out and looking at it in the mirror with morbid fascination, then more crying.

Poison control, in their very calm and reassuring “we’ve seen worse” way told us that she would be fine, just drink some milk, she didn’t ingest nearly enough to cause at worst a mild tummy ache. They maintain an enviable database of information whilst performing a MOST un-enviable service. They called back two hours later to check on us.

Oh yeah, and after I smartly removed myself to the paint room, I noticed little white tongue marks on the drop-cloth where she was trying to wipe that nasty substance off. By now, they were “cute little tongue marks”.
Later she said

Daddy, I am just a little girl and you and Mommy know better.
Besides, I didn’t know what it tasted like.

I think we should tell Bella.

Thanks Ang, for doing the right thing with control and restraint.
You are a good Mommy and you know better.